


lightning always strikes twice

by kinaesthetique



Series: her demons, their witch [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Devil Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Dragon Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Endgame SymPharMercy, F/F, FIGHT!, Fareeha Amari is a witch, Magical Realism, Multi, but don't let your guard down around symmetra either, devil!mercy is the definition of Feral and doesn't know how to turn it off, established Symmercy, fareehas moral dilemmas vs unwavering mutual attraction between her and her demons, here be demons, how to be an ethical demon summoner, this is absolutely the defintion of 'i wrote this for myself but i guess y'all can read it too'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinaesthetique/pseuds/kinaesthetique
Summary: On Halloween Eve, it's no surprise that eccentric Master's student Fareeha Amari is up late researching. It's why she hears the crash downstairs. With the upcoming holiday, Fareeha is prepared for many things that go bump in the night, but the two demonesses sitting on her couch are not what she expects.It’s not Fareeha’s life unless they ask her for help in stopping a demonic hazing ritual.It’sdefinitelynot Fareeha’s life unless they’re both incredibly attractive.(The beginning of a tale of Demons, Hellfire, Sorcery, and Heartsickness.)





	1. first impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I call this a love child of Overwatch, Good Omens, Gravity Falls' Transcendence AU, Teen Wolf, Blue Exorcist, Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro, Black Butler, Soul Eater, Criminal Minds, purity ring, Billie Eilish's album, any number of various witchy animes/shows, and a really big helping of 'Kina is extremely gay for hot demon ladies, magic, and oblivious witches and for once allowed themselves to indulge in writing what makes them happiest'. It's a heavily-lored clusterbunch written in about 24 hours (I've been told this is unheard of but hey it all makes sense, so here we go), but I hope you like it.  
> This fic is a present for myself! It's my birthday in a few days, so I'll post a chapter of this each day until my birthday.
> 
> Some things:  
> >>> The way that Fareeha practices her craft is based half in reality and half in fantasy. Take it with a grain of salt. (You're welcome to infer what you'd like but I have an incredibly private practice and don't really like to talk about it candidly.)  
> >>> The WIP title for this was: 'i call this: i'm gay and predictable'  
> >>> After my university censored a play I helped write for freshman orientation for making the 'frat house look too bad', I took a vow to never portray a frat house/boys in a positive light ever again. also the depicted frat is fake. If you're a frat apologist, please keep it to yourself. ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha heads downstairs brandishing a bat, unsure of what to expect.

If Fareeha had been doing her research downstairs, then she’d probably been less of a target for burglars. She should know better. It’s Mischief Night after all. Lights on downstairs would deter teenage miscreants. However, Fareeha had decided to take her laptop, a stack of library books, and tea into her bedroom. Easier access to her bed ensured she’s less likely to fall asleep on the table or stay up much later than she should, like last night. And the night before that...

It's well past midnight already. A particular line of interest had her jumping down the rabbit hole of buried kings and sacred religious sites in northeast Canada when she was _supposed_ to be researching the effects of lesser-known pesticides on the early century Ontarian fishing industry. It was almost interesting enough for her to ignore the crash downstairs.

Almost.

_Burglary is a bit of a step up from the typical toilet-papering and eggings._

Fareeha sits up slowly, glancing behind her at her cat, Raptora.

“Rap, you invite friends over tonight?”

The Russian Blue’s green eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the size of marbles. Fareeha grabs the bat she keeps at her desk and slowly gets to her feet. Rap, however, jumps off the bed and darts beneath it, no doubt getting covered in dust balls and his own shed fur. Fareeha rolls her eyes. 

_Coward._

She shifts the grip on the bat and reaches over to turn off the lamp. The carpet is soft under her bare feet as she shuffles toward her bedroom door, which is already slightly ajar. From there, she can see the plug-in lamp illuminating the foyer at the bottom of the stairs.

_Well, the front door is still closed. Did they break the window?_

Fareeha swallows, keeping close to the hallway wall and hoping she can get down the stairs quietly. The hardwood doesn’t creak, which surprises her. Considering how old the grad school housing development is, it seems unlikely.

“Why am I not surprised that a group of sweaty fraternity boys summoned us tonight?” growls an unfamiliar voice.

Fareeha freezes on the step, hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She swallows nervously, then creeps down another two steps.

“Oh, you know they get cocky around Halloween. Doesn’t matter that we could just eviscerate them now and be done with it.” The second voice pauses then continues, "I wouldn't really care."

“They are just _foolish-_ ”

Fareeha crouches on the bottom step and looks up at the foyer mirror.

_Are those… demons in my living room?_

From her angle, she can see the heads of two women, both crowned with horns.

_What the hell-?_

“Shall we introduce ourselves?” says one to the other.

“Well, rules of engagement dictate that the one who enters the room should go first. What do you say, dearest?” The demon meets her eyes in the mirror and Fareeha flinches. “Care to say hello?”

Whirling toward the living room, she readies the baseball bat, holding it out in front of her like a club.

“Y-you’re trespassing,” says Fareeha, eyes darting between the two women. She can feel the sweat rolling down her temple. The woman with golden reptilian eyes just laughs, covering her mouth with a hand covered in equally-as-golden armor. The other woman, clad in a red, orange, and black bodysuit, nudges her lightly.

“Don’t worry. We have a permit to be here. A contract, if you will,” she purrs. “Did we wake you?”

Fareeha bites her lip and considers her. If it were not for the horns, the fiery wings, and tail, she could almost appear human. Her purple eyes watch as Fareeha assesses her. She’s holding pieces of a cat figurine that usually sits on the coffee table, but as she watches, she pieces it back together and replaces it next to her textbooks.

Fareeha shakes her head, wishing they’d disappear by the time she opened her eyes.

_No such luck._

She turns to the second demon… demoness? Though she has long since stopped snickering, she still looks incredibly amused. Her horns point backward, accentuating the dragon-like tail that grows from her head. Aside from her armored left arm, her body is covered in orchid, tangerine, and scarlet scales. Between her bosom, a golden glow suffuses, not unlike lava surfacing in a fissure.

Fareeha takes a deep breath and stops herself from observing them any further. She readjusts her grip on the bat, trying to stop it from slipping through her sweaty palms. Her eyes dart toward her undergraduate soccer team photo. Caution guides her words. 

“My name is Pharah.”

The first demoness, the one with the swishing tail, raises her eyebrows. It’s now that Fareeha realizes that she has a set of small spikes above them, which move with the motion. Their ebony hue stands out against her alabaster skin, even in the dim light that the other is providing with her glow.

“We aren’t…” She tilts her head, eyes narrowed with curiosity. “This one has more sense than most humans.”

“That is not a high bar, considering the level of their stupidity,” says the dragoness, as Fareeha has come to think of her, flicking her tongue in disgust.

“Hush, Sym. She’s _clever._ That means she’s _fun_.” ‘Sym’ relents and the demoness continues. “We are not _fae,_ dearest. You couldn’t hide your name from us, even if you truly wanted to.”

“But I haven’t given it to you,” Fareeha says quickly, aware that her undergraduate diploma is framed above the fake fireplace. “Which means you can’t have it.”

The demoness leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her tail flicks like Raptora’s when he first spots the laser dot. Fareeha can feel her pulse quicken under the scrutiny.

“Oh, you _are_ a curious one.” When she smiles, Fareeha can see her canines are quite long and sharp. “Very well, _Pharah_. I'm Mercy, a demon of malpractice.”

“You may call me Symmetra,” says the other. A flower blooms from her armored palm, explaining her next words. “I am also known as the Summoner.”

“And you’re in my apartment... why?” Fareeha doesn’t stammer this time. It could be the caffeine from her tea or the slow realization that she's likely dreaming that helps bolster her confidence.

“Why don’t you come sit and we’ll explain, Pharah?” Mercy beckons her toward the couch. Symmetra scoots over so there’s a space just big enough for one human between them.

“And how," Fareeha readjusts her grip so her hands stop shaking so much. "How do you I know you won’t eat me?”

They exchange an amused look.

Symmetra hums, giving Fareeha a thorough once over. “If we were to eat you, it would only be in a way that you enjoy.”

It's in that moment that Fareeha remembers she’s wearing the following: a sports bra that had seen better days, a blue tank top she’d gotten on clearance, unicorn boxer briefs, and green and blue flannel pajama pants. She lowers the baseball bat in shock, almost letting the tip hit the floor.

 _It’s Halloween, I'm in my pajamas, and this demoness is_ flirting _with me in my_ apartment-

“Symmetra, we’re not here to ravish her-”

“Has your nose gone soft?”

Mercy inhales, then barks out a laugh. “Definitely not, but-”

“Are you going to hurt me?” Fareeha blurts, desperately wanting to turn their attention away from the fact that she’s an exhausted, single, bi twenty-something and two gorgeous non-human women are in her living room discussing whether she'd like to be held in their arms and—

“Have you ever committed medical malpractice?” Mercy asks, pulling off her gloves to reveal short, well-manicured nails. Steadfastly ignoring that fact, Fareeha rolls her eyes and shifts her stance to lean on the baseball bat.

“No-”

Remaining seated, Symmetra stretches luxuriously to the ceiling, glowing brighter as she yawns. “Have you ever designed a structure with the intention that it will fail and hurt others?”

“Uh, definitely not-”

“Then we will not hurt you.”

“You hurt people for that?” Fareeha tries to stifle her own yawn and fails. Mercy grins at her.

“If you like your euphemisms, yes.” Mercy gestures at the space and Fareeha approaches the couch cautiously, leaving the bat propped against the wall. 

“You’re not slowly burning the couch, are you?” She can’t help but sneak a glance at the fabric behind and under them. “It’s university property and I’m trying to get my deposit back, you know.”

_It is a really ugly couch, especially compared to who’s sitting on it..._

“We’ll fix it, dearest. Now sit.” After she does, Mercy plucks curiously at her flannel pajama pants with one hand. “Aren't these uncomfortable?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be sitting between two living space heaters tonight, you know.” Fareeha shoos her hand away. Mercy pouts, her orchid irises flashing. 

“S-sorry,” Fareeha squeaks, realizing what she’s just done. _Sitting between two demonesses that could kill me easily and I slap her hand away?_

“I shouldn’t have touched you,” Mercy demurs. It’s not exactly an apology, but if she was going to say anything else, Symmetra interrupts with a wave of her hand. She creates a glowing diagram of a frat house that Fareeha walks past every day.

“Do you recognize this dwelling?”

“Yeah, that’s Phi Beta Tau…”

Symmetra hums, gesturing until the diagram sinks to the basement level. What she sees there looks like something out of a B-list horror movie. Mercy reaches over and flicks her fingers through the throng of holographic people until she reaches the center of attention.

“So they summoned you?”

“Tell me, Pharah,” Mercy murmurs, spinning the representation of the summoning circle in front of Fareeha’s nose. The spinning sigils threaten to dizzy her. “What’s the date?”

“It’s the night before Halloween. Well, I guess it's Halloween _now_. Uh, it’s a Friday…?” Fareeha whispers, reaching out for the circle. “It’s also midterm season. Those idiots…”

“I assure you that these fraternity boys have not the faintest intention of studying,” scoffs Symmetra. Fareeha turns to her, only to get a mouthful of smoke as the dragoness huffs irritably. Fareeha chokes, coughing on the smoked wood scent. When she gets her breath back, she’s met with the intense gaze of the dragoness.

“You are alright.” Not a question, but a statement, a promise.

“Yeah, I’m f-f-fine.” Fareeha finds it perfectly easy to lose herself in Symmetra’s golden eyes. “Do you mind not smoking in my house? Deposit, remember?”

“As you wish.” Symmetra’s smile is nothing if not intoxicating. Fareeha tears her attention away and back to the summoning circle.

“See the thing is,” Mercy begins, but Fareeha doesn’t miss the way she reaches behind her and shoves her partner lightly. “An incantation isn’t actually needed to get a demon’s attention. The summoning circle works. It gives us a chance to see who we’re potentially dealing with and binds us to the nearby area.”

“The incantation is simply a call for an audience. The summoning circle is a homing beacon.” Symmetra continues.

“But there’s one circle and two of you. That doesn’t add up.”

They exchange yet another satisfied look and Fareeha notices that she’s actually taller than both of them; they have to lean forward to look at each other.

“There was a publishing error in a popular occult text some sixty years ago or so.” Mercy sighs. “Our sigils were combined due to a mistranslation of malpractice.”

“Medical malpractice and... architectural malpractice?” Fareeha waits for nods of confirmation before she continues. “So why do you both come anyway if you know it’s a mistake?”

Mercy actually _blushes lilac_ to Fareeha’s surprise. “You’re quite intelligent, Pharah. Why do you think?”

She blinks, taken aback. Despite earlier comments, imagining two demonesses expressing genuine affection-

“We have grown quite fond of each other, despite the error.” The bluntness in the dragoness’ voice surprises Fareeha, especially considering how much brighter the room gets when she says it. 

“That’s sweet,” Fareeha says honestly, chiding herself for feeling disappointed. “And what do you need me for?”

“It’s not a summons we’re interested in.” Mercy shrugs. “Their intent is to sacrifice a handful of pledges’ blood for Halloween. Juvenile really. Not our department.”

“It’s a hazing ritual. Hazing’s against the code of conduct,” Fareeha mutters, spinning the diagram. “There are at least thirty boys here. I guess I could report the frat house for you? It’s not like you can just go to campus police.”

Symmetra dissipates the diagram. “Actually, we were hoping you could destroy the circle for us. Prevent them from doing it again.”

Fareeha squints at her. “I’m not hurting anyone.”

“No, no, we don't mean that. There are ritual cleansings you can do on the people involved, Sever their ties to the Unseen and prevent them from making further contact." Mercy stands and stretches her wings. They block the light from the streetlamps, casting a shadow over Fareeha. "Of course, if we’re summoned through incantation, we would have to do our best to fulfill the contract.”

“It would not be... desirable for all parties.”

Fareeha takes a deep breath, reading between Symmetra’s words. “You’d find a loophole in their contract and kill them.”

“It’s standard practice when summoners don’t meet certain standards. Every demon’s a little different.” Mercy shrugs with her arms and her wings, flashing a sharp little smile. “Any human foolish enough to summon indiscriminately should be prepared to face the consequences.”

Fareeha shivers under her glowing violet gaze. “But I didn’t summon you.”

“No, you did not, Pharah. We need _your_ help. Despite our nature, we are not… incredibly fond of such large amounts of carnage, especially of the young and naive. If it is not us, it will be another demon.” Symmetra seems thoughtful as Fareeha turns to her. “The only way to prevent this is to keep them from ever summoning again. It’s a ritual we need a witch for.”

“Wait, you think _I’m_ a witch?” Fareeha looks between them incredulously. “Uh look, I’m a grad student, not a witch. Or a wiccan or anything like that.”

Their silence is deafening and Fareeha almost doesn’t dare to breathe as she looks between them, waiting for a response.

“But… your crystal collection?” Mercy tilts her head.

“I don’t know. I just like them. Always have.”

“And your familiar?” Symmetra makes a small projection of Raptora.

“He’s my ESA!”

“You have an altar upstairs!” She changes the projection to the collection of knick-knacks and candles that Fareeha keeps on her bedroom bookshelf. 

“That’s not an altar! It's just- Just stuff—”

“Your candles, your herb garden, your study of the arcane and of mythical creatures. Your collection of wands and consistent magical thinking since adolescence. You…” Mercy swoops down to eye level and sinks her hands into Fareeha's knees. Fareeha flinches back from her sudden approach, unable to tear her gaze away from the demoness’. Her voice reverberates so deeply that Fareeha can feel it in her heart. 

“How can you be so intelligent and yet so _dense_! Do you just ignore how much happens when you wish it? All the little things in your life that you couldn’t have possibly gotten away with? Everywhere you go, you bless children and infants with gifts that only they can understand! And your co-workers gravitate to you for counsel without a second thought, no matter how much younger you are than them! Those stones that always carry in your pocket depending on the things you want to feel are charms, idiot! You make _talismans_ for birthday gifts! _Fareeha Amari_ , you cannot sit here and tell us that you are _not_ a witch!”

Eyes wide at her name, Fareeha can feel the blood drain from her face as Mercy straightens up and towers over her, eyes aglow and flared wings ablaze. She can’t help the whimper that escapes her throat as the demoness bares her teeth in a razor-sharp snarl.

“The _only_ witch within radius doesn’t know she’s a witch. Fancy _that,_ Sym.” Mercy disappears in a flash of red smoke. Her ultraviolet gaze lingers, burned into Fareeha’s retinas.

Trembling, Fareeha turns to Symmetra, expecting her to have done the same. Still present, the dragoness regards her with a softer expression.

“You have a good heart, Fareeha.” Symmetra places a single finger on her sternum and presses lightly. “That is all we truly need of you. You do not have to be aware of your power to save people.”

“But-” Fareeha starts but Symmetra exhales a fresh cloud of smoke, except instead of woodsmoke, it smells sweet and cloying, like rising dough. Fareeha sways on the spot, eyelids already fluttering.

“As mortals say, _sleep on it,_ ” Symmetra commands and disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.

Fareeha is asleep before her head hits the couch.


	2. a second chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha goes about her Halloween day as an Arabic 1100 teacher's assistant and tired grad student, but when she gets home, it becomes clear that she'll be spending her night moonlighting as something a little more supernatural.

Fareeha wakes, gasping.

Thankfully, the remnants of sleep paralysis prevent her from flipping off the couch and launching Raptora into the decorative fireplace. The cat in question sits on her chest, purring. As she blinks the sleep from her eyes, he meows in her face and yawns, showing off a lovely case of morning breath.

“Yeah, I _know_ you’re hungry, Rap.”

Fareeha props herself up on her elbows and Raptora moves down to her lap and meows again. She stares at him and he stares back. He purrs loudly when she scratches him behind his big ears.

_He's just a cat. A really good cat who knows how to break me out of a fog._

She looks around the room. No scorch marks on the couch. No broken figurine; she even picks it up and examines it for hairline cracks and finds none. No lingering smell of smoke.

_Just a really weird and vivid dream. No hot lady demons in my living room._

Raptora meows angrily as Fareeha pushes him off her, swings her legs off the couch and runs upstairs for one final confirmation. There, next to her desk, is her baseball bat. It’s not far away from her bedside table-

Upon which sits her alarm clock, currently reading 10:42 a.m _._ Fareeha yelps. Her first class starts in less than forty-five minutes. She tears through her room in a panic, taking the quickest shower, dressing haphazardly, and throwing her papers and books into her bag. She runs out of her apartment at eleven on the nose, sprinting across campus toward the building where she holds her classes. 

Her slight tardiness is forgiven when she passes around the plastic jack-o'-lantern full of candy to her undergrads. It's been stashed in her desk for the occasion. The candy also serves to muffle their groans as she reminds them of their midterm on the following Tuesday. They stumble through the oral practice and she corrects them firmly in Arabic, pushing them to not make her ears bleed. It’s a long set of classes. By the time her third and final class is finished, Fareeha realizes that breakfast and lunch have long passed.

Her stomach rumbles.

Fareeha meets with her advisor in a hungry stupor, duly advising her of the slow progress toward finding a thesis topic. By the time, she gets out of her office, the sun is setting. Undergrads are already out in costume, headed out to pre-game, no doubt.

She trudges back toward the grad dorms, readjusting her messenger bag as she climbs the hill. Phi Beta Tau looms in front of her and for a moment, she pauses in front of the old-fashioned frat house. Several jack-o'-lanterns decorate the porch, already lit for the night.

 _It’s… unassuming, to say the least._ _But if there were something wrong… I'd want—_

“Hey girl,” says a voice from behind her. Fareeha turns slowly and regards the young man with a raised eyebrow. He grins the easy grin of a rich kid who has never heard the word ‘no’. “Oh _wow_ , you’re even prettier from the front.”

“Thanks,” Fareeha replies, already turning toward home again.

“You got a costume for Halloween?”

“Sure do.” Fareeha rolls her eyes as he jogs to catch up to her. "Pajamas."

“Aw, don’t be like that. You’re too cute to be staying home tonight.” He swings around to block her path and jerks his thumb at Phi Beta Tau. “Come over at nine. We’ll be getting the party started.”

“Is that an official invite?” Fareeha raises both eyebrows now, trying to pretend her interest isn’t only on getting home, heating up leftovers and catching up on finding resources.

The frat boy gives her a once over that makes her skin crawl. “For a pretty girl like you? Absolutely. I’m Tyler.”

She takes the offered hand and shakes it once, dropping it like a rock. She steps around him and continues to head home.

“No name?” Tyler shouts after her. 

Fareeha just laughs and waves over her shoulder. “I’m pretty! Why do you need my name?”

_After all, frat boys are just modern fae._

He doesn’t follow her but Fareeha still takes a longer, more well-lit route to her apartment. She checks her mailbox in the center of the complex and shuffles through the junk mail as she approaches her front door. 

She shoves the key in the lock, gets into the apartment, and locks the door behind her, slumping against it and letting her messenger bag slide off her shoulder and sink to the floor. She's almost begun to relax and plan out what remains of her evening when a familiar, skeptical voice interrupts her thoughts.

“What kind of witch forgets to feed their familiar?”

_It wasn't a fucking dream!_

Fareeha shrieks and throws the mail at Mercy, who actually allows the papers to hit her in the face. She scrambles into the opposite corner and struggles to regain her composure. After feeling behind her for the light switch, Fareeha's able to glare at the demon properly in the harsh light.

The demoness looks just as she did early that morning. Red, black, and orange outfit. Ebony hair, marble skin, violet eyes. In the light, she can make out a trident insignia on her shoulders and recognize that her cloven hooves are stylized boots. With her wings folded, she could be a trick-or-treater herself.

_Except for the tail._

Mercy scowls back at her, red tail whipping back and forth. “No excuses? No apologies?”

“I didn’t mean to, I woke up _late!”_ Fareeha struggles to get her breath back as Mercy stalks toward her. She backs up against the wall. “Symmetra put me to sleep! I have classes to teach, you know!”

“And if you hadn’t been so _sleep deprived_ , it would not have affected you badly.” Symmetra peeks around the corner of the living room with a bowl and spoon in her hands. “Just this once, I will take responsibility for it.”

Fareeha’s gaze flicks down to Mercy’s cherry red lips, then back to her eyes. Mercy smirks and pets the lapels of her blazer with both hands. Her breath hitches audibly and Mercy does _not_ miss that fact.

“Isn’t it lucky that she likes you?” She purrs, tilting her head just so.

Ducking her grip, Fareeha snatches up her messenger bag and escapes through the living room. When she steps into the kitchen, she notices Raptora twining around Symmetra’s legs.

“ _Traitor,_ ” she hisses at the cat who meows loudly at her but doesn't leave the dragoness' side. Of course, she’s also speaking to her own heart, whose pace has little to do with her sprint to the kitchen.

“ _Opportunist_ ,” Symmetra corrects. “I only fed him one can of food; I’m sure he will return to your side before long. I made dinner, so sit.”

"I can at least help-" Fareeha gestures to the pots on the stove helplessly, only now realizing her kitchen is near immaculate. "Wait, did you two _clean?"_

 _"Fareeha,"_ Symmetra snaps and Fareeha flushes. "Go. Sit. Down."

She gestures to her tiny dining room, which Fareeha now realizes is lit up. There’s a small open place at one secant of her small round table, which is otherwise covered in jars, bowls, and plates of odd substances. As she takes her seat, she notices Mercy picking up the dropped mail piece by piece as her tail swishes back and forth. She looks away before the devil can catch her blushing.

Symmetra places a bowl of a fragrant curry in front of her, along with a spoon, a cup of tea, a glass of water, and a yogurt cup. Before Fareeha can dig in, she ladles a spoonful of rice into the bowl and places a sprig of fresh cilantro on it.

"Thank you…?" Fareeha waits for them to take a seat on either side of her before picking up her spoon. Mercy picks Raptora up and coos at him, cuddling him in her lap. Symmetra simply watches her eat. The curry is an unfamiliar one but it tastes delicious. Fareeha eats one spoonful after another, realizing how hungry she is. "Uh, you didn't steal this, did you?"

"Of course not. You had all the ingredients in your kitchen." Symmetra takes her empty bowl. "It's important that you gather your strength. Are you still hungry, Fareeha?"

 _Cute how they both just... decided to use my real name,_ she rolls her eyes as the dragoness refills her bowl. Mercy regards her with an odd expression.

"And you forgot to feed yourself too?" She tsks and allows Rap down. He yowls at her and runs back to Symmetra. “Pitiful.”

"Look, I had other things to worry about." She looks away as Mercy licks her lips, focusing instead on the pile of odds and ends littering the table. "Like what you dragged in my house while I was gone! What is all this?"

Mercy doesn't seem to mind the change of topic. In fact, she actually smiles and begins pointing them out. "It's what you need to make the Severance potion. Ebony ash, rainwater, virgin blood-"

Fareeha pulls a face. Mercy giggles. Symmetra places a fresh bowl in front of her and sighs.

"It's just fresh cranberry juice, you absolute puritan. Go ahead, smell it." Mercy hands her the mason jar full of chunky red liquid. Sure enough, it has the marshy smell of cranberries.

She replaces the top. "Alright, what else?"

"Flint chips. Dirt harbored by the oldest tree within our radius. Sand from an east flowing creek. Fur of your familiar-"

"Gathered from your furniture," interjects Symmetra when Fareeha nearly chokes on a mouthful of food.

"And lastly your own hair, from your hairbrush," the dragoness adds, with a glare at Mercy.

Fareeha narrows her eyes at the pair of them, chewing through the last few spoonfuls of curry and rice. She makes quick work of her yogurt, then surveys the table again. The assortment of ingredients is extensive but incomplete. Perplexed, she stares at the collection of jars and bowls of ingredients but there's no empty space or empty container that hints at a final ingredient. Something's just _missing._

_How do I know that?_

Fareeha drains half of her glass of water and considers the table again, aware that both of them are watching her.

_Is this like some Dalai Lama test? Is this on purpose?_

"You… missed something."

"Only a witch could know that," Mercy raises an eyebrow. "So you admit it?"

_Oh, what the hell. It's Halloween._

"I'm not one on purpose, I don't think. But maybe just for tonight." Fareeha pushes her chair back and heads upstairs, passing through the foyer again. She finds what she needs on her bookshelf. For a moment, she stares at the odd assortment of found things surrounding her favorite amethyst point. It does look a bit like an altar after all. She finds her collection of dried leaves, sorts through them and selects four.

Once she's downstairs, Symmetra clears her bowl and set out her stone mortar and pestle.

"And you just have these things laying around?" Mercy scoffs as Fareeha takes her seat again. "You're the most oblivious chaos witch that I've ever met."

"It's for walnuts! I- Nevermind." Fareeha carefully lays the leaves in front of her, so as not to break them. "These are… four leaves I caught while falling. They've never known the ground..." They're old, brown, and unassuming. In fact, most are from her undergraduate career, when the novelty of autumn had yet to lose its charm.

_And I never could bear to get rid of them. Was I waiting for this moment?_

"It doesn't matter what they are or when they were collected, it's _how_ they were collected that matters." Symmetra nods approvingly. "We may be able to stop this after all. It is good that you received an invite to this party."

"That was lucky, yeah," Fareeha mutters, trying to ignore the fact that she had not yet told them that or even truly agreed to help.

_Like I'd make any other decision..._

"Not luck," Mercy rolls her eyes. "Magic."

Fareeha makes a face, side-eyeing the demon. "Believe me, a frat boy hitting on me is _not_ magic."

"Trust me, you're not his type," Mercy sneers. 

" _He's_ not mine," Fareeha snaps back. "He just talked to me because I was _there_ and they want their ratio to be high at the party-"

"Oh do tell me, _Fareeha_ ," Mercy purrs and her name on the devil's lips makes her heart hammer in her chest. She swallows as Mercy folds her hands beneath her chin. "What _exactly_ is your type?"

_Please lord, I don't have time for this right now._

"A-a-aren't you- Isn't there-" Fareeha stammers, unable to break eye contact with Mercy's glittering eyes. The demoness grins toothily and it's not until Symmetra turns her chin toward her that she can formulate a proper sentence. Her fingers are pleasantly warm on Fareeha's skin. "Aren't a whole bunch of dumb kids going to die if I don't do something?"

"Precisely. Which is why _someone_ should refrain from antagonizing you further." Symmetra glares at Mercy who examines her fingernails and swings her tail lazily. "Fareeha, what do you need us to do?"

The spell turns out to be relatively simple. Fareeha cleans a ceramic incense burner and rings its short candle with the flint chips. She crushes the leaves in the mortar and pestle, then boils them in a small portion of the rainwater. While Symmetra stirs that, Fareeha allows Mercy to strain the cranberry juice into the ash, dirt, and sand while she burns Rap's fur, then her own hair with the incense burner. She sprinkles the charred remains into the paste that Mercy stirs with one of her wands- this one is a single drumstick she'd found while camping.

There's no recipe but Fareeha knows what to do and why; it just feels right. She explains her reasoning to them as she goes. With each word, the atmosphere crackles with the arcane and by the time she adds the remaining rainwater, cranberry-earth paste, and fallen leaf tea to a larger saucepan, there’s not a doubt in her mind that this is real.

 _So this is magic._

Symmetra and Mercy watch over her shoulders as she stands in front of the slowly simmering pot and waits for the first bubble to rise.

When it does, Fareeha stirs the concoction- twice clockwise, then three times counterclockwise- turns the heat off and puts the lid on. Her wand— a clean one that's a snapped half of a wooden flag pole— steams slightly as she holds it in front of her.

"That was very well done, Fareeha," Symmetra places a hand on her shoulder and Fareeha's heart swells with pride, even if she feels faint.

"I need a moment." Almost every bit of strength that the curry had given her is gone.

"We don't really have a moment." Mercy points to the clock on the stove. "It's past eleven."

"It's _what?_ " Fareeha yelps, staring at it. "The party started at nine!"

"Focus!" Mercy grabs Fareeha and whirls her to face her. "You have to douse them in the potion and deliver the incantation before they finish!"

_Before you kill them, you mean!_

"But I don't _know_ the incantation," Fareeha makes frantic air quotes with her free hand. "I thought _you_ knew it!"

Mercy rolls her eyes. "Your _familiar_ told us what you needed for your spell. We don't know much. And he won't know the incantation. That's up to you. Chaos witches _always_ do everything by the seat of their pants. You'll think of something at the last second."

Fareeha looks at Symmetra in confusion but she only nods in agreement.

"Get dressed." The dragoness shoves her lightly. "The potion needs to cool."

Fareeha runs upstairs without a second thought, placing her used wands on the altar. She jumps in and out of the shower, tears through her closet for an outfit, and gathers a few more supplies. It's not until she runs downstairs for her last prop that she realizes how empty the apartment is.

"Mercy?" She calls into the silence. Fareeha runs in a circle: from the kitchen to the dining room to the foyer to the living room and into the kitchen again. Neither demoness is anywhere to be found. "Symmetra?"

Fareeha looks up at the clock. It's twenty minutes until midnight.

_There's only one place they could be._

Fareeha's out of time.


	3. third time's the charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha has never really _liked_ parties, but sometimes what one wants to do is not the same as what one must do.

"And what are you supposed to be?" 

Fareeha is only slightly shorter than the quarterback-turned-bouncer, but her position on the steps doesn't exactly emphasize that fact. She twirls her hair and giggles, forcing down bile. 

_He looks like he hasn't washed his hair since the last game._ _Strategic flirting... strategic..._

"You've never seen Kiki's Delivery Service?" Fareeha poses on her broom and smiles, trying not to laugh at irony. "It's a classic. I thought for sure it'd be a hit."

"What's in the bag?" He points a meaty finger at her messenger satchel. Fareeha gets off the broom and opens it readily. 

"Just Jiji and a box to help the bag look nicer." She tilts it forward so he can see the RedEx delivery box and the black cat plush. He grunts and Fareeha adjusts the bow on her head nervously.

_There's not much time. Let me in!_

The bouncer crosses his arms. "You look kinda old."

_I'm not even thirty, you ass-_

" _Heeeey_ , pretty girl!!!" Tyler staggers into the bouncer from behind. Even his wolf-whistle is noticeably slurred. "You put on a dress for _me_? God, you're _gorgeous_."

He extends a hand and helps her up the stairs onto the porch. It's sticky underfoot. Fareeha remembers why she always avoided frat parties in undergrad.

"She's old," grunts the bouncer, with no attempt to keep Fareeha from hearing. She tightens her grip around the broom handle.

"Derek, dude," He slaps the bouncer on the arm. "Nothing wrong with an older lady. They're _cultured. Enchanté,_ my goddess."

Derek rolls his eyes and steps aside. Fareeha can't help but wish she could afford to make the same face.

Tyler kisses her hand and Fareeha tries not to recoil or let her disgust show on her face. He leads her into the house, pushing through throngs of sweaty, dancing bodies.

"We're out of the cheap stuff but I saved you a Mike's." He yells over the din of the music and presses the bottle into her free hand, after missing twice. “Loosen up and have some fun! I'll be back upstairs before you know it."

_So he's part of the hazing… Amazing. Why am I not surprised?_

Fareeha waits until he's gone before tossing the bottle into the trash and following in his direction. She uses her satchel as a barrier between herself and the common partygoers.

 _That's not even close to a demon costume, honey._ She thinks as she squeezes past a pair of girls wearing headband horns, plastic bat wings, and fishnets. _But it's a nice look._

A quick stop in the bathroom relieves her of the bulky box. She rearranges its contents into the satchel, tucking Jiji in a deep pocket for luck. Back in the main room, she skirts the walls until she finds the door that Tyler must have gone into.

It's locked.

Fareeha swallows, hand still on the knob. She thinks fast. 

_What now? I don't have time for this!_

As if waiting for her to ask, a saying of her mother's comes to mind: _Only humans know time, habibti_.

She grabs one of the bobby pins holding her hair bangs in place and pries it apart with her teeth. Her best efforts at lock picking do little but get the bobby pin stuck in the keyhole. It's then that Fareeha takes a deep breath, watching the sweat roll down her hand. She wipes it onto the brass knob and grasps it once more. She whispers, knowing she'll be heard regardless. "I have spent _twenty minutes_ picking your lock and have succeeded."

She twists her hand. The doorknob turns.

Not stopping to examine _that_ triumph, Fareeha slips inside and closes the door quickly behind her. She takes a deep breath and begins to descend the stairs, following the smell of candles and the sound of voices.

She pulls the water soakers out of her satchel and leaves the bag on the stairs. She pumps each one once and creeps further into the basement. The view from between the stair railings is blocked by an assortment of frat house junk: boxes, pool tables, basketball hoops, stacks of trophies. Fareeha finds a thin crack between the piles and assesses the situation.

First, she notices the pledges, twelve of them, cut shallowly on the underside of their forearms and bleeding into a middle ring of the circle. Then, within the innermost circle, she sees her two demons.

Symmetra sits on a stool that matches the gradient of her scales. With her legs crossed at the ankle and arms crossed at the wrist, she seems bored. Her golden eyes flick toward where Fareeha is, just for a moment.

Mercy perches on Symmetra's shoulder and back, wings flared wide and teeth bared in a deadly smile. Her hooved boots rest on the edge of the seat behind Symmetra. Despite the agitation in her expression, her tail flicks lazily.

For the first time, Fareeha realizes that Mercy and Symmetra had never been a danger to her, no, not at all. Here, in this basement, the aura of power that emanates from the entities in the summoning circle is beyond what a pack of frat brothers could ever handle.

_A pair of lionesses, all power, and very, very little restraint._

She can see Tyler across the circle, apart of a ring of almost twenty brothers. It's going to be a long shot to douse them all, but Fareeha knows it's her only chance to keep a worse fate from befalling them.

Fareeha crouches on the concrete slab floor and edges around a pool table. She leans her broom just behind her, slowly so it doesn't make a sound.

_Only one exit. That's good. Just don't panic, kiddos. It's just magic water..._

"And what do you pledge to, mortal?" Symmetra asks; her voice echoes in the small space. The pledge in question squeaks, clutching his arm.

"I- I- I just want to go home, ma'am." He tries to get to his feet and back out, but a frat brother pushes him to his knees again. "This is too much, man. Everything else was whatever, but this?"

He sobs as Mercy hops down and smiles in his face. It's clear that she can't touch him through the inner circle but he flinches anyway as she hisses at him.

"So, what do you _really_ want, foolish boy?"

Fareeha takes the first shot before he can answer.

It's not the pledges she's worried about so much as the current brothers. The cranberry juice allows the potion to show up easily on their white capelets— and the resemblance is not lost on Fareeha as she douses frat boy after frat boy in the potion.

_So comfortable in white. You gotta wonder..._

To their credit, they panic in a fairly organized fashion as she blasts one after another from the base of the stairs. It's just that there's no other way out of the basement.

"Pretty girl?" Tyler cries out in dismay as Fareeha shoots him in the chest. He falls back into a stack of boxes. She can't help but snicker at that. All that infatuation and he still never learned her name.

That's probably why she doesn't notice the bouncer behind her until she hears a safety click near her ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Derek growls in her ear.

 _Hey, that's not fair._ These _aren't real._

Fareeha swallows, unsure of what to do next. The remaining frat boys begin to move toward her-

Symmetra roars so loud that the basement shakes and anyone that had been still standing falls to their feet, save for Fareeha. The bouncer drops the gun and Fareeha snatches it up with the hem of her dress and replaces the safety lock, amazed that the dragoness could bellow like that. When the gun's safely stashed out of sight, she looks around the basement.

The silence is deafening. Fareeha looks down at the nearest person and then stares wide-eyed at Symmetra.

"They're alive," Symmetra insists, her voice slightly hoarse. Fareeha blinks, trying to regain her composure as she relives hearing the gun next to her head in her mind. Regardless, she trusts the dragoness' words.

Keeping to the task at hand, she circles the room and douses potion on the remaining boys and the pledges, then squirts Derek a few times for good measure.

Mercy's smile feels genuine and it warms her heart to see. That is until she points to behind Fareeha, opens her mouth and ruins it. "You just had a wooden broom lying around? Just casually-"

"Oh shut up." 

Fareeha takes a deep breath, reaching into her dress pocket for her third wand of the night- a small smooth branch that she'd found next to a fallen drey of baby squirrels, all unharmed after a thunderstorm. 

She waves it above her head— twice counterclockwise, then three times clockwise— and chants the words that come to mind:

" _Scissors cut strings to beings Unseen._

_Flay bare the soul and strip it of Sight._

_Never returned will what I have Gleaned,_

_Now it is lost to All Hallow's Night."_

She almost expects some sort of small explosion as she finishes. Instead, there is _something_ that rises from each body, visibly invisible like a heatwave from summer blacktop. Mercy stomps impatiently, pressing against the circle's invisible barrier.

" _Fareeha_ , don't let those go to waste! Let me out of here!"

Not questioning the order, Fareeha blinks, vaults over the bodies and grabs the broom. She sweeps a break in each of the concentric chalk circles, from the outside in. As soon as she breaks the last barrier, Mercy zooms out, plucking the incorporeal masses from each body. Fareeha doesn't know what to say when she begins devouring them one by one and making obscene noises as she does.

Symmetra summons another seat and Fareeha sinks into it, now only realizing the depth of her exhaustion.

“That’s… not their souls, right?” Fareeha murmurs, not even sure how she would react if the answer was yes.

“No,” replies the dragoness with an amused puff of smoke. "That _is_ her favorite thing to eat, though: Potential."

"Uh huh." Fareeha watches Mercy do a flip in midair, cackling to herself. "Was this a ploy just to get her food?"

"Not at all," Symmetra shakes her head, looking over at her. "Neither of us really like killing humans. As for a food source, our preferences are only available from live ones. This was just a side effect. All the magic they could have done in their lives has left them at this moment."

Fareeha doesn't know where to start with that, so she doesn't. "And what's your favorite food?"

The dragoness seems surprised at the question. She studies her claws. "That would be Regret."

"Oh. What does _that_ taste like?"

"Bitterness." Symmetra pauses. "Almonds, old paint, and arsenic. Many poisons at once. But it sustains me."

Fareeha grips her wand tighter in her lap. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My unlife reflects what I was. It's only a reminder. Penance, if you will-"

"Sym, we have to go-" Mercy lands in front of Fareeha and tugs her to her feet. Fareeha stumbles into her, blushing as Mercy caresses her cheek with a smirk. "We’d better let Ms. Not-a-witch get back to her normal life."

"You don't have to go!" Fareeha blurts, frantically looking between them. _Please stay-_

"Without the circle, we cannot remain Seen anyway. Mercy may tease you, but she tells the truth." Getting to her feet and destroying the seats with a wave of her hand, Symmetra reaches out and cups her cheek as well. "But working with you has been quite wonderful."

Fareeha quirks her lips in a smile, trying to keep her heart from seizing. "Yeah, I bet you say that to all the pretty witches you work with."

"If that's what helps you sleep, dearest," Mercy murmurs, her violet irises shining with an unnamed emotion. She flutters her wings until she's level with Fareeha, then leans in.

Mercy kisses her on the cheek. Her lips are against her skin, warmer than average but not uncomfortably so. The puff of smoke is the only thing that lets her know the demoness has disappeared.

Symmetra smiles at her when she opens her eyes.

"Don't worry. We discussed you." She flicks her tongue playfully. "Though I would have preferred if she'd asked _you_ first."

"I didn't mind. I mean, I _don't_ mind. At all," Fareeha squeaks, trying to ignore how her voice hitches as Symmetra wraps a hand around the back of her neck, tugs her down to her height and kisses her other cheek. Unlike her counterpart, she doesn't disappear immediately. The dragoness strokes her face and lingers.

"Be well, Fareeha. You will succeed in whatever you choose."

After Symmetra vanishes in a cloud of smoke, Fareeha brings her hands to her face and sighs, savoring the lingering warmth of both of their kisses.

_I think I could get used to being a witch._

She takes a moment to snoop around the basement and tie up loose ends. Eventually, she does have to face the reality of her situation. Alone in the room with lingering smoke and surrounded by nearly three dozen unconscious bodies, Fareeha does the only thing she can.

She calls the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering about the incantation, this is a great time to mention I concentrated in creative writing. I timed myself as I came up with it on the fly and yes it is possible if you're used to rhyming. (Fareeha has a psych degree though. _her_ excuse is that she's a witch.)
> 
> *RedEx implies that this universe is the same one that Miles Morales (in Spiderverse) lives in, btw


	4. four, a knock at the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Halloween, the rest of the semester passes by without incident. The days grow colder and with them, the absence in Fareeha's heart does too.

Even when the wind blows at negative temperatures, Fareeha cannot help but glance at the dark and abandoned former house of Phi Beta Tau on the way home from campus each day.

With the end of the semester and winter holiday fast approaching, her office hours often ran over into her dinner times. Sometimes, there just wasn't much you could do for someone who refused to do translation drills for the majority of the semester, then came in confused about how to translate a single passage of One Thousand and One Nights.

But as she passes by the house, she can't help think of Halloween night. It'd been easy enough to pretend to be a hysterical partygoer on the phone with campus police, and even easier to wait at the top of the stairs while the police raided the house and sent drunk and costumed undergrads scattering.

After giving her statement about finding the unconscious group while she was looking for the bathroom, Fareeha declined the offer of an escort home, retrieved her water soakers from outside the tiny basement window after leaving the house, and walked home.

Before the weekend was over the frat chapter was suspended, the brothers evicted, and multiple students were in custody. Much to her surprise, the police never contacted her afterward. Even the disgraced pledges and brothers didn't recognize her on campus.

It works for her.

So Fareeha is free to walk past the abandoned house in the quiet snow and wonder. The frat house itself doesn't hold her attention as much as what's missing from it.

Apparently, she is not the only one with the missing item on her mind.

When she gets back to her apartment, Raptora greets her at the door and drops a sprig of parsley at her feet.

"And what am I going to do with this?" 

The cat offers no answer, but he swipes at her ankles until she bends over and picks it up. After taking off her outerwear, she tucks the stem behind her ear.

_It'll come to me later, I guess._

Rap refuses to let her up the stairs, instead chasing her into the kitchen where she heats up some leftovers and eats them at the dining room table.

"It's Friday," she mutters to herself, glad for the promise of a late morning. Raptora meows loudly as if to call her a dunce for not knowing such a simple fact. She scowls at him.

When she makes it upstairs, she's almost sure the parsley was an apology.

Her room is _ruined._

Half of her succulents and their broken pots are scattered on her bed. Her altar is torn up. A precious photo frame's glass has been cracked with a particularly large specimen from her gem collection. There's a haphazard stack of textbooks on _top_ of her laptop. She hurries to clear them and checks the screen. It's not cracked. She sinks into her computer chair and sighs in both relief and frustration, almost afraid to look at the rest of the mess.

Her suitcases, which are usually in the closet, are strewn about the room, with her summer clothes spilling out. On top of it all is _Rituals and Victuals For the Curious Mind_ , a ratty gray hardback bound by several hair ties. The last time Fareeha had seen the book, she'd been burying it in her suitcase, along with thoughts of Halloween and gold and violet and red and orchid—

_Stop. Stop, stop, stop._

Fareeeha shakes her head and fixes her cat with a glare. Raptora leaps daintily over the carnage and yowls with both front paws on the book.

"Tell me you didn't do this."

Rap just stares at her.

"Rap! You could have killed my plants! And for what? To find a creepy spellbook?"

Her cat trots over to a summer tee that's laying on the ground and drags it over to her feet.

"Bad cat!"

Raptora brings over another shirt.

"Bad familiar!"

He flicks his tail at her and drags over a pair of jean shorts. Fareeha brings the garments into her lap and he jumps onto them and headbutts her chest.

"Ugh, bad kitty..." Fareeha pets him absently, trying to figure out if she has the energy to clean the mess up before she passes out.

The Russian Blue bites her hand, hard enough that Fareeha yelps. While she hisses obscenities at him, he runs around the room, shoving his nose at certain things and then headbutting her shin.

Fareeha takes a deep breath and _looks_ at all the things in the room and the clothes in her lap. Blue shirts, blue jeans, blue trash can, blue suitcase, blue sheets... When the connection dawns on her, she can't help but feel a little offended. "Are you trying to say I'm _blue!?_ I'm not upset that they're gone!"

He yowls and pounces on the book then begins trying to gnaw the hair ties off.

"Hey! Stop that!" She grabs the book and holds it up high. Instead of hissing or scratching, Raptora meows excitedly, circling her where she stands. "I'm not going to use it, you jerk. I only took it so someone else wouldn’t get caught up in it. Leave me alone!” 

She carries it out of the room and he follows. Fareeha glares at him, pacing in the hallway.

"I don't care about how good your intentions were. You're banned until further notice!"

Fareeha darts back in her room before he can follow and slams the door behind her. He yowls, shoving his little paws beneath the door.

"Rap, dude, you destroyed my room over a book you can't even read!” 

He slams against the door, crying. She can hear him leaping for the doorknob.

“Damn right, I'm kicking you out!"

Angry yowling.

"Go sleep on the couch, you hooligan!" Fareeha waits for a response and gets none.

 _Jerk_.

It takes far too long for her to refold and pack her summer clothes, clean the dirt off the bed, and repair her altar. There's nothing that can be done for the picture frame, except save the picture. By the time she gets everything back in order, it's too late to realize that she'd forgotten one thing.

 _Rituals and Victuals for the Curious Mind_ sits innocently on her desk. It had lay hidden under textbooks until she'd reshelved them. Now that she's thoroughly exhausted and ready for bed, it taunts her.

Fareeha turns out the overhead light and climbs into bed. It can be rehidden in the morning.

Minutes pass. Fareeha turns away from her alarm clock so she doesn't have to see the time.

 _It's the parsley,_ she thinks, taking the sprig out of her hair and adding it to her altar so the smell can't keep her awake.

 _It's the soil,_ she thinks folding up her quilt and exchanging it for the clean comforter in her closet.

 _It's the silence_ , she thinks, pulling up the white noise app on her phone.

 _It's the white noise_ , she thinks as the timer on the white noise ends and she's still wide awake.

 _It's the moonlight,_ she thinks, closing the blinds.

 _It's the darkness,_ she thinks, plugging in a night light.

_It's…_

"Who am I kidding? It's the fucking book." Fareeha turns on her bedside lamp and reaches for it. The hair bands, hastily applied after she'd gotten back from the party, slip off easily.

It smells a little like the earthy cranberry potion she'd used to Sever the frat boys. It also smells a little like the smoke of her demons. She stops breathing for a moment.

_My… demons._

Fareeha buries her face in her hands.

 _They're not_ my _demons. I barely know them. And they're_ demons, _for crying out loud…_

Fareeha folds her legs and stares at the cover for at least five minutes. She pushes it away from her, then swings her legs over the side of the bed. When she opens the door, Raptora regards her with a knowing expression.

"First, you apologize."

He meows softly and headbutts her shin, twining his way around her legs.

"Accepted." She closes and locks the door behind him. "Now, help me figure out what I'm looking for."

Fareeha stretches out on her stomach and opens the book to the first page. Rap snuggles up next to her, his attention fixated on the pages as she flips through them.

True to the title, there are quite a few recipes in the book for various turn-of-the-century foods. Near the back of the book, the tone shifts toward recipes for disaster.

 _A Ritual for Fixing Business Mistakes or_ _Accidents_ catches her cat's eye. Rap meows and slaps the page. Fareeha frowns. 

"That can't be it." Fareeha turns the page and realizes how wrong she is. It's their sigil, plain as day. 

"A business mistake… malpractice… Wow, Mercy wasn't lying, that’s a _terrible_ translation." Fareeha traces over the sigil, wondering where Mercy's began and Symmetra's ended. It was appropriately indicative of how she thought of them.

_Mercy and Symmetra. Symmetra and Mercy._

She flushes as the next thought comes to mind unbidden.

_Symmetra and Mercy and me._

She skims the rest of the book for a basic summoning circle itself and finds vague instructions and crystal clear warnings about summoning demons.

"What if I just make my own circle and sigils?"

Raptora mews and curls up in bed.

"Right. No opposable thumbs." Fareeha rolls over and stares at the ceiling, making up constellations in the popcorn drywall. After a few minutes, she gets up and paces the length of her room several times, hugging the book to her chest.

 _Worst comes to worst they don't come by. I'm not_ summoning _them. I'm just... inviting them…_

Fareeha groans, pressing the hardcover to her forehead in frustration.

_If they don't come by before Sunday morning, I'll get rid of it._

As Fareeha heads downstairs to implement her plan, she has to laugh a little bit at herself.

_Look at me, invoking demons on a Friday night. I need to get out more._

* * *

Fareeha doesn't realize she's fallen asleep until she wakes up. She rolls over and groans. Even with the carpet under her, the foyer's tile is unforgiving. Every joint in her body pops as she sits up and examines her handiwork.

Despite having fallen asleep on it, the paints dried perfectly. It's a fairly small set of concentric circles but detailed with original sigils for all of her hopes, wonders, and curiosities about the pair. The air still smells of acrylics and poster markers. Fareeha rubs at her eyes, wondering if she has enough room to add another ring when there's a sharp rapping at her door.

_Oh, that's what woke me._

"One second!" As she flips over the vandalized foyer rug and dumps _Rituals and Victuals_ and her supplies into the umbrella stand, she can't help but feel a little disappointed. 

Her demons wouldn't knock.

Fareeha uses one of the hair bands to pull her hair into a small bun and opens the door.

"Good morning, Dean Harding?" Fareeha steps back in surprise, allowing the Dean to step inside. She does a mental check of the living space and thanks the stars she had cleaned up recently. The housing official dusts the snow off her peacoat.

"Ms. Amari, I hope you got my email. These lovely young ladies couldn't wait any longer for a response though and I am taking my leave tomorrow." She sniffs importantly and Fareeha raises an eyebrow, unable to recall any recent emails. "You are aware of the policy regarding your other bedroom, the double?"

"Yes." Fareeha glances over her shoulder up to the stairs. "But you said it would only be used in case of emergency or when there's no other grad student housing—"

"Correct." She blows her nose into a handkerchief. "I trust you haven't used it as additional storage?"

"No, of course not. It's been locked since move in." Fareeha scoops Raptora up as he trots down the stairs meowing loudly. "Woah there, buddy. I'm glad you're excited about the housemates."

_That makes one of us. This couldn't have happened at a worse time..._

There's another knock on the door and Dean Harding opens it. Fareeha shifts Raptora to one arm and wipes her face with the other.

_At least my pajamas match._

"Ooh, this is very nice!" A young blonde woman gazes in wonder at the foyer walls and the living and dining rooms on either side of the narrow entryway. She peers up the stairs as she rolls a pair of matching orange suitcases behind her and sets them aside. Finally, her blue eyes come to rest on Fareeha.

Raptora meows.

"You must be Ms, Amari! It is such a pleasure!" She leans in and kisses Fareeha on both cheeks. It's a distinctly European gesture, which makes sense because her accent is distinctly German. "I am Dr. Ziegler, but you can call me Angela, yes?"

Her peppy attitude and bright smile are contagious and Fareeha finds herself smiling back. "Just Fareeha, please."

"Dr. Ziegler has already earned her doctorate in medicine in Switzerland but she's taking accelerated classes here to earn her Canadian license," Dean Harding explains.

"I suppose I am here a little early for the spring semester," Angela demurs with a little smile. "But it'll be nice to have time to adjust."

Fareeha nods, holding onto Raptora as he stretches out to headbutt Angela's arm.

"Aren't you cold?" Fareeha blurts, noticing that Angela wears little more than a windbreaker in the bitter December weather.

"Oh no no!" Angela laughs brightly. "The Alps are much colder. We consider this nice weather. We could go for a swim! Ah, but poor Satya..."

"We all have different tolerances, Dr. Ziegler. On that note, Ms. Vaswani, would you care to introduce yourself?"

At Dean Harding's behest, the other woman rolls her smaller suitcase over to Fareeha. It's hard to see anything beyond warm brown skin and hazel eyes as every other part of her is covered in a coat, hat, scarf, or snow.

_When did she-_

Judging by the fact that she'd slipped inside and immediately attempted to melt into the shadows, Fareeha expects the other woman's handshake to be more hesitant. 

"Satya Vaswani. I am a third-year urban architecture transfer student from Vishkar National University." She shakes with two firm pumps and lets go of Fareeha's hand. "I will be starting next semester as well."

"Welcome. I'm Fareeha Amari."

Raptora licks the snow from her gloved fingers and Satya raises an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry?" Fareeha backs away, almost tripping over the shoe rack. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's usually not this friendly."

"Cats are such sweet creatures. It's kind that you are allowed to keep one on campus." Satya's words seem almost to be said to herself, but Fareeha replies anyway.

"Well, he runs the house," Fareeha chuckles when Rap meows as if to confirm this. "So if he likes you, you've already won half the battle."

"And the other half?" Angela asks, tilting her head.

"What?" Fareeha struggles to hold tighter to Raptora as he begins to squirm.

"What's the other half of the battle?" Satya insists as she pushes the handle down on her suitcase.

"Uh-"

"Ladies, it's a figure of speech." Dean Harding jumps to the rescue. "Ms. Amari has excellent ratings from her students, professors, and peers. Fareeha, I'm sure you'll get along with these lovely young ladies just fine?"

"Yeah, of course," Fareeha can't help but inch over and stand on the edge of the rug to prevent it from flipping up when the suitcases eventually have to roll over it. "My house is your house. Er, apartment."

"And we thank you for that, Fareeha," Satya smiles at her for the first time and Fareeha feels her heart skip a beat.

"Yes, I look forward to sharing quarters with you," Angela adds, also smiling. Fareeha's heart skips a second beat.

The two women exchange a few last words with the Dean, accept their keys, and begin carrying their luggage upstairs. Before she can offer to help, Dean Harding pulls her aside.

"I sent you a manual on new roommates: house rules, chore wheels, all that. It's in your inbox. Take the winter break to get to know them, won't you? They're both _such_ lovely young ladies..."

_Lovely young ladies… how many times has she said that?_

Dean Harding seems to lose focus in her gaze for a moment, then snap back to attention. "I've got to get going now. Ta-ta!" She shuffles out to her car and backs out the snowy parking lot.

Fareeha closes the door and locks it, thinking through the interactions. Then she lets Raptora down. He thumps to the floor, meowing.

She takes a deep breath.

_It's a coincidence. Or it's a miracle._

She turns around and opens her eyes.

_Or it's magic._

Angela sits on the bottom step and Satya sits one higher. She scans their facial features and silhouettes, their posture and the way they casually touch each other. They'd taken a moment to take off their outerwear, revealing outfits in color schemes similar to the natural forms. Even in these human disguises, their demeanor is unmistakably that of Mercy and Symmetra. 

Fareeha can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s you.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Satya undoes her long braid and shakes her hair out. It’s as long, or longer than, than her dragon tail headpiece. She smiles when Fareeha shakes her head. Raptora meows at her and she leans down to pet the familiar. 

Mercy, or Angela rather, has shed the human persona as easily as her windbreaker, speaking with none of the peppy, Swiss doctor in her voice any longer.

"Oooh, I wonder what this says-" Angela purrs, toeing the carpet back with her foot. Fareeha yelps, dives across the carpet and collapses to the floor at their feet. She can feel the rug burns forming on her palms.

"Hey, don't look at that!" She leans back, trying to cover the mat with her body. They both lean over her and smile sweetly.

Satya raises an eyebrow and her irises shine golden, but the rest of her disguise remains intact. "You wrote to us and we would like to read our letter. Move or be moved-"

Fareeha snorts. "Yeah, right. You look like a _twig_ right no-"

The noise that Fareeha makes when Satya unceremoniously picks her up bridal style and carries her off the rug is nothing short of undignified. She throws her arms around Satya's neck and bites back further squealing.

_Note to self, appearances are deceiving._

"You were saying?" Satya hums, adjusting her grip slightly but not putting Fareeha down at all.

Blushing, Fareeha just groans at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the rug being flipped over with ease.

"Oh, Saty, I guess we have won the battle after all. She _definitely_ likes us." Angela smirks up at Fareeha before turning her attention back to the sigils painted on the rug backing. "Like, really, really likes us. She wonders if we could spend some time with her. She's so _lonely_ and _sad-_ "

"Hey!"

"Don't tease her so." Satya walks closer, still holding Fareeha. She begins to read through the sigils on the other side of the circle. "Though you did ask for companionship. You want to bring stability to our Unlives. And learn from us about magic and witchcraft. And get to know us better. That's very sweet of you…" 

Satya circles the diagram to examine a section that Angela's scrutinizing. Fareeha cranes her neck to see what's caught their attention.

Angela leans closer to the rug, tracing a handful of sigils with her fingertips. Then she throws her head back and cackles. "Pretty sure _at least_ one of these is begging us to tie you down and fuck you senseless-"

"I didn't write that!" Fareeha yelps and flushes, frantically trying to reread her work from her vantage point. _Shit, did I?_

Angela snickers. "Just because you didn't write it doesn't mean you didn't mean it."

"First lesson of sigil making, especially for a chaos witch: never imbue when tired." Satya’s shrug shifts Fareeha's whole body. "But it does not mean we would not consider it."

Flustered, Fareeha kicks and struggles until Satya puts her down. She dusts off her pajamas and shuffles her feet nervously. "Look, it isn't like _that_. I don't know. I just… it felt unfinished. I wanted to talk to you more… I just... it felt too short and I... I don't know what I was thinking, doing this."

_Like they don't have better lives to live..._

"And here we are!" Angela gestures to Satya and herself. "We thought you'd never ask."

Still flustered, Fareeha digs around in the umbrella stand and holds out a pair of scissors. "Well, I don't even know if you want to be here. You don't have to stay."

"Fareeha," Satya starts quietly. "If we had asked to stay… how much time has passed since we last saw you?"

_Five weeks and a few hours, give or take._

"Five weeks."

"If we had asked to stay with you five weeks ago, what would you have done?"

"Uh, let you?"

Satya sits heavily on the steps next to Angela. Fareeha sinks onto the upturned rug, petting her handiwork absently.

_Something tells me that was the wrong answer._

"You would have let two scary demons stay with you, even though you knew them less than a day?" Angela sighs and flips her bangs. " _Especially_ me? Is your head on straight?"

"Nothing about me is straight." Fareeha quips, much to their collective dismay but she carries on through their groans. "But you don't scare me…”

_Wait a second..._

Fareeha looks up at Angela and narrows her eyes in confusion. “Especially not _you_ , Mercy."

Angela's eyes flash purple for a moment. She gapes like a fish, opening and closing her mouth without anything to say. Eventually, she settles on a scowl.

 _The line between who they desire to be and who they're expected to be is..._ Fareeha examines the pair of them quietly. _How could I miss this?_

"Is this who you were when you were human?" Fareeha whispers, feeling all the clues slot into place. Satya's eyes begin to water and Angela's frown softens just a little bit, her mask cracking.

 _Oh, of course_.

"You tried so hard to unsettle me and rile me up. But then you got so upset when you thought I couldn't help those dumb frat boys… You made me dinner even though you don't eat human food. You got all those ingredients and helped me with my first potion. You protected me when you could have easily let me fend for myself. All this time, you've just been humans pretending to be monsters."

"You told her," Angela whispers, horrified. Her ponytail swings wildly as she looks to Satya, clutching her hand. “Saty, _you didn’t._ ”

Satya makes a small noise, eyes impossibly wide.

"She didn't! She didn’t tell me.” Fareeha leans forward and touches them both gently. “I only just realized it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you-"

"We should not. We _cannot_ speak of it." Satya hiccoughs, shaking her head violently. "It is not _permitted_ to speak of that fa- that _rumor._ "

Fareeha nods frantically, trying to reassure them. "I won't tell anyone what I guessed. I swear."

_What could even convince a human to become a demon?_

Satya takes a deep breath and drags her hands down her face. "You are _too_ clever for your own good, Fareeha."

She waits until they’ve both gained some sense of composure before backtracking the conversation. “So why couldn’t you have asked to stay?”

"Fareeha, even outside of the bureaucracy of the Unseen, demons cannot just _ask_ to stay. What if a human wakes up and realizes that they felt coerced?" Satya shakes her head and her long black hair flows with the motion. "What if you had woken up one day and realized that you had only accepted out of fear, having seen what we could do?"

Fareeha spins the scissors on the carpet backing. "I thought a lot about that and I’m fine with it. But still, if you didn't want to stay, you don't have to."

"You painted the circle so it wouldn't wear as easily though." Angela points out. "You wanted us to be here for a long time."

"I know," Fareeha insists, flushing anew. "But that's why I have the scissors for you-"

"Fareeha!" Angela takes her head in both of her hands and growls, "Do we look like we're here for a day trip?"

"You wanted us here for a while, right? Even before we read your summons, we could tell.” Satya gestures to the apartment. "So we're here in a way that could be more… stable for you."

"Well, you don't have to pretend to be human," Fareeha waves her hands in front of her and swallows nervously. "For me or anything. I mean it's nice, but you don't have to give up your demon forms to make me comfor-"

"What the hell. How are you still so stupid in one breath and genius in another?" Angela throws up her hands and stomps up the stairs. Satya and Fareeha exchange a look of confusion. In a burst of red and black flames, Angela becomes Mercy in all her glory. "You think I'm going to reject the _second_ person who can look at _this_ -"

She gestures to her horns and tail and wings and everything. As Fareeha watches as she thunders down the stairs and her more demonic features melt away with each step and reveal the small blonde beneath, swamped in the red and black of the demonic outfit.

_Oh, Angela..._

"-and actually _see_ Me? You think I'd just _throw that away_?" She sinks to her knees in front of Fareeha. "You think I wouldn't give up everything I've become, just for the chance to be tethered to the both of you?"

 _How long has she been hiding behind innuendo and bravado?_ Fareeha glances over Angela at Satya, who just seems relieved, and not surprised, to witness what Fareeha would certainly classify as a breakdown. She looks back to Angela, resisting the urge to probe any deeper.

“ _Herrgott_ , this is awful.” Angela's eyes are brimming with unshed tears, irises' flickering between blue and violet. “It was my idea to do the whole human dance. I thought it’d be funny, but my head’s about to explode.”

“It was clever,” Fareeha whispers. “But you can just be you, whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

"Stupid reasonable human," Angela growls, with absolutely no heat behind her words.

 _Oh no, fuck, she's crying._ Fareeha panics, patting Angela on the back and bringing her into an awkward hug. After a while, she can feel the leather of Mercy’s outfit dissolve into the soft cotton of her blouse. 

“You fooled me, by the way. Both of you, really.” Fareeha smiles as Satya reaches over and cards her fingers through Angela’s golden hair.

"I will savor the look of shock on your face for many years to come." Satya looks away, but there’s no mistaking the molten glow just under her cheeks. "But receiving your summons was a pleasant surprise as well. And I… would not have dropped so many hints as to how you could find us again if I had not wanted you to do so."

"That’s cheating," Angela grumbles from over Fareeha's shoulder. She leans back, maintaining eye contact with Fareeha. Angela feels around on the floor until she finds the scissors, then with perfect aim, she tosses them back into the umbrella stand. Fareeha listens to them collide with the rest of the craft supplies there and can’t help the grin that splits her face.

_I guess that’s it then?_

"You're a perfectly nice human to hang out with-" Angela starts, chewing her lip.

"And you're perfectly lovely demons," Fareeha interjects before Angela can say something insulting.

"So, can we stop arguing about whether we want each other around?” Rather than sit next to them on the floor, Satya pulls them both to their feet. Angela meets her lover with a kiss. Fareeha just blushes, once again reminded of the incredible strength harbored in Satya’s small body. 

With a small, secretive smile on her lips, Satya strokes both of their cheeks. “Because I do believe the consensus is a resounding yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As hanghr said upon reading this chapter... _"and they were roommates"_
> 
> There'll be one more chapter!


	5. plead the fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a Saturday afternoon of talking with her new roommates, Fareeha really does have to get back to work. After all, she has finals to grade and a thesis to write.  
> The only question is how do Angela and Satya factor into her routine now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is a cap! Apologies for the wait but I do hope it's worth it! This chapter threatened to double the work's workcount but ended up at only 10.4k instead of 12k, ha!  
> I'm not really a one-shot kind of person, so yes, there's more in this series, but I'm aiming to break my Horizons writer's block and maybe post a few bits of this one's sequel for Halloween. Either way, it's all Sympharmercy!

“That is absolutely _hellish_ pronunciation,” Angela announces.

Fareeha looks around the dining room for a moment, then remembers to look up. Angela tosses a stress ball toward the ceiling and catches it. It’s not much of a challenge, considering she’s about a foot from the drywall.

"Angela, this is one of my C students. They’re doing their best and besides, they’ve actually improved quite a bit."

"I could speak better Arabic in my sleep."

Fareeha narrows her eyes, trying to fit that information in with everything else she knows about the Swiss doctor-turned-demon. It doesn’t quite slot into place. Angela doesn’t seem to be interested in offering any further explanation, so she files it away for later.

 _“But I’d still be better than you,”_ Fareeha teases, finally pressing play on the audio file again and marking a few more notes on her rubric.

It's a while before Angela responds with a quiet _harrumph_ ; she doesn't deign to reply in Arabic- or any other language for that matter. Her silent sulking doesn't seem to phase Satya, so Fareeha relaxes, keen to finish grading a few more exams.

_If there's anything I've learned in the past twenty-four hours, it's to watch them both._

Learning to share space with two demons-masquerading-as-human is a process, but Fareeha already feels as if she knows them better.

For example, while Satya employs a nearly all-or-nothing mentality toward her appearance and has kept to her human form in spite of staying in the house, Angela either doesn't care or doesn't mind straddling the line. Aside from her wings beating slowly to keep her afloat and her tail lazily slapping at Fareeha's fake flower centerpiece, she's otherwise a human shade of pale, blonde, blue-eyed, and still very, very bored.

 _For someone who refuses to go outside, she is_ very _antsy._

Fareeha gets back to grading the oral section of her student's final exam, then continuing with the remainder of their written short answer and translation sections with ease. She grabs her blue gel pen and does a complicated little scribble on the front of the booklet to denote completion. Just as she finishes, Satya speaks up.

"You have been grading for a few hours," Satya murmurs. Fareeha peeks over the laptop and across the table. She watches the disguised dragoness turn a page of _Society against the State._ Satya has made quick work of her anthropology texts, reading for most of the day; judging by the pages left, it seems like she’s close to the end of this one. Her ears twitch slightly under her hair, but otherwise, her attention seems to be on the book until she continues, "And the majority of the evening yesterday. Surely you need a break."

"Well, not really." Fareeha taps her pen against the exam booklet of the next student. "It's my job. Plus, the idea's to give them feedback before their conversational finals on Thursday."

That earns her a skeptical grunt from Angela. " _Satya_ could help, you know."

"You've switched from offering your own help to volunteering Satya's." Fareeha finally takes out her lone earbud. "What gives?"

 _It's weird to watch her shrug upside down._

Despite her shrug, Angela doesn't immediately say anything. Satya shuts her book and glares up at her. Fareeha frowns, trying to figure out what’s going on between them.

Flapping her bat wings, Angela twirls in the air and folds her arms, looking down at her. Her tail flicks irritably. “Well _clearly_ , you don’t want _my_ help.”

“I don’t want Satya’s either? These are first-semester students and only _I_ know how much they’ve learned.” Fareeha laughs, pushing her chair back and stretching. “I don’t need you grading on whether they could read a scientific journal or a legal contract in Arabic. They don’t need a harsh grader.”

“I can be nice.”

Fareeha snorts. “Now I didn’t say they needed nice. I’m _fair._ ”

"Fair is boring," Angela gripes. " _You're_ boring."

"Sorry," Fareeha tries to hold back a teasing grin without much success. "I'll try to be more witchy once the break starts."

“So, when will you have time to work on your thesis?” Satya gently tugs on Angela’s tail like a lamp chain. It’s refreshing to see the blonde jump a little bit, but it’s not quite worth her falling out of the air, knocking over an empty chair and crashing to the floor.

After peering over the edge of the table to make sure Angela will recover, Fareeha turns back to Satya.

"What do you mean?"

"I said you'd do well in whatever you chose." Satya smiles. "Right before we parted on Halloween, do you not remember? You chose a topic, right? Have you been working on it?"

"If I answer that, can you answer one of my questions?" Fareeha pretends not to notice that Angela's recovered enough to sit on the floor, tail swishing back and forth and eyes narrowed with interest.

"Of course."

"I go to the library in the afternoons and work on gathering my sources. I was a little busy yesterday with you two, but I'll be going in a bit." Fareeha replies, glancing at the clock on her laptop and pulling up her thesis. She considers her next words carefully. "When you told me that, I just thought you meant generally. But I never told you anything about my thesis. How did you know?"

Satya reaches across the table, turns her palm toward the ceiling, and waits. Fareeha looks from her hand to her face, caution and curiosity blooming in equal measure. Finally, she places her hand in Satya's.

Satya closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She exhales with a chuckle and just the faintest scent of woodsmoke.

"Are you always this worried? Or is it only when we're around? We both find you fascinating; we won't leave just because you’re busy." Satya hums, stroking the palm of her hand lightly. Fareeha can feel herself flush as she pulls her hand back.

"You didn't tell me you could do that.”

"Did you ask?" Satya snickers into her hand, a coy gesture that reminds Fareeha of something that is a little too easy to forget; Satya is still Symmetra, still a demon, still tricky.

"Well, no but-"

"You didn't think there was a limit to our powers, did you?" Satya rests her chin on her hands and puffs a thin stream of smoke from her nostrils. "Come now, Fareeha. Surely you haven’t forgotten our many strengths."

"Ooh, let's play a game!" Angela springs to her feet. She rights the chair that she'd knocked over and plops into it. “I bet we’ve noticed more about your magic than you’ve noticed about our powers!”

Fareeha groans. "Okay, no. No games."

"Angela, we shouldn't annoy her." Satya purrs. "She has a _job,_ remember?"

"Forget the grading; I'm outnumbered! How would any game be fair with you two?" Fareeha gets up and heads toward the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of water from her pitcher in the fridge. "You _cannot_ that bored!"

Zooming from the dining room and perching on top of the fridge, Angela interrupts her attempt to drink by caressing Fareeha's face with her tail. Luckily, Fareeha chokes only a little and ducks out of her grasp.

"What? Satya might not be, but I _am_ that bored." Angela flies in a small loop and hovers in front of her as she closes the fridge and turns around. She shrugs. "Someone's usually bleeding out by this point. Books don't exactly do it for me anymore."

Fareeha rolls her eyes and sips at her water. Angela watches carefully as she leans back against the closest counter.

"If you're trying to scare me-"

"I'm not."

"Or impress me-"

"Is it working?"

"No. It's really not, Angela." Fareeha sighs. "You don't have to do that."

"Well, _entertain_ _me_ then." Angela grins and rolls over in the air until she's upside down again. Batting her eyelashes, she smiles wide and reaches out for Fareeha's face with both hands. "Since you refuse to let me do what _you_ really want me to d- _mmmrph_!"

Fareeha plants a hand on Angela's face and pushes her backward, ruining her precarious hovering balance and oncoming innuendo. The demoness flaps frantically to right herself mid-air and hisses. She watches her, amused, for a moment, before calling over to Satya. "I’ll play if and _only_ if Angela wears a blindfold."

"That's kinky, dearest," Angela calls out as she zooms out of the room, presumably to find something to cover her eyes.

"Then you'll enjoy it, won't you?" Fareeha shouts back, wincing as she hears a crash upstairs shortly after.

Satya just laughs. “She really does want you to like her, you know?”

Fareeha sits in the chair across from where Angela had been sitting and reaches over and shuts her laptop. She takes a long drink of her water before responding, “I thought you already knew I did.”

Satya flicks her bookmark absently, staring at the cover of the book. "You have a psychology degree. I'm sure you can understand what her unlife has been like."

Fareeha raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Psychology doesn't mean I'm psychic."

"I know that," Satya scoffs with a roll of her eyes. "Never mind."

She doesn't get a chance to respond to Satya's odd reaction because, at that moment, Angela comes flying back downstairs, tie in hand. She plops into her chair and hastily fastens it over her eyes.

"Is that-" Fareeha squints at the familiar pattern on the cloth before leaning back with a sigh; it is indeed one of her ties. "Never mind. Just don't get any eye boogers on it."

"Would you like to set the rules, Fareeha?" Satya leans back and crosses her legs, angling her body toward Fareeha's side of the table.

 _I would not._ Fareeha rolls her eyes and says, “How about you set them and I make tweaks?”

Satya doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest at her decision. “For fairness' sake, for every one thing you tell us about either of us, we’ll each say one thing that we’ve noticed about you.”

"Until?"

"Until one of us gets bored!" Angela's sing-song tone certainly sounds amused; her flicking tail supports that theory.

"Or until one of us runs out of things to say. What about if _I_ win…" Fareeha takes a breath and considers a proper prize. "Then you both come to the library with me?"

"We'd gladly do that anyway." Satya folds her hands into contorted poses, the metal of her prosthetic fingers clicking in the contemplative silence. "What if we win?"

"I'll buy you both coffee on the way?"

Angela and Satya exchange a look— for a moment, Fareeha wonders if Angela's blindfold actually works, but it seems to be a cursory gesture— but say nothing. Eventually, Satya nods.

"Guess I'll start then." Fareeha leans back and crosses her arms. "Neither of you can eat or drink anything that you're not ritually offered."

"What? You read that in a book!" Angela cries.

 _But I'm not wrong._ Fareeha smiles. "That's correct. Satya, your turn."

Eyeing Fareeha with open curiosity, Satya strokes Angela's thigh. The blindfolded demoness sputters, pouting incoherently as she realizes she wasted a turn but allows herself to be soothed.

_Not technically wasted, but a turn spent all the same…_

Satya takes her time answering, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Clever. You would never offer that prize unless you had a plan to skirt the rules."

"Of course not." Fareeha sips at her water, glad that she can avoid Satya's scorching golden gaze and any resulting blush. "Angela can read minds through eye contact."

Angela tosses her hair. "Windows to the soul and everything. _You've_ warded this house against uninvited guests since we left."

"And at first, only one of those wards incorporated your blood, but then you realized that wouldn't be as strong."

 _Why didn't I realize this before?_ That gives Fareeha pause. "You can see magic."

"Mhm. It was immediately after we left that you realized how lucky you got with us, so you protected yourself," Satya continues.

Angela however, goes for something different. "You've always talked to Raptora like he can understand you and you're relieved that there's a reason for that."

Fareeha hums, wondering where the line is between rudely on-point inductions and simple facts. For her, it's a bit early to cross that line, so she settles for something safer. "Satya can use her smoke to incapacitate others."

"You still shy away from spells as a solution to non-magic problems." 

"And magic problems too. Sigils are fine, but you only use spells when your hand is forced." Angela doesn't seem to take as much joy in this observation as she would have expected and instead seems irritated. She pauses before adding, "The power frightens you."

Fareeha frowns. Satya even looks a little surprised by Angela's statement. The cruel thing would be to reveal something similar, but Fareeha prefers higher roads.

So she simply states, "Angela's older."

Satya raises her eyebrows. "May I pause to ask how you know that?"

Resting her elbows on the table, Fareeha nods. It's hard to ignore the lashing of Angela's tail or the slight curl of smoke from Satya's nostrils.

"Your levels of education yesterday hinted as much."

"But?"

If she hadn't seen her mouth move, Fareeha thinks she would have attributed Angela's single word question to her imagination. 

"I knew that before you left on Halloween."

"Because?" Angela grits her teeth, fangs barely visible above her lip.

"I thought you didn't want her to psychoanalyse you?" Satya strokes her thigh again, eyebrows knit together in concern.

"I just know," Fareeha says softly before Angela can answer. _If she wants, she can read my mind later._ "It's your turn."

When Angela doesn't answer right away, Satya offers, "You've started baking magic recently."

"You have sigils for encouragement on the saran wrap over your snickerdoodle dough in the fridge," Angela grumbles, gravitating to Satya's touch. "Because you bake _cookies_ for _undergrads_ like some sort of _mom_."

"Look, a lot of them are freshmen and it's the end of the semester. They could use a boost!" Fareeha protests. "It's not illegal to be nice to students, you know!"

"You're adorable," Satya coos, even as Fareeha glares at her. "It's your turn."

"You're both..." Fareeha stops, takes a deep breath, and reconsiders her words. "Once I would have said Satya was better adjusted but you've both just… adapted differently to your unlives."

_Less bothered, Satya is using her power to her own end and has found purpose, but every inch of Angela just screams survival and reluctance._

"How many magnifying glasses did you waste on that, Sherlock?" Angela laughs, unimpressed. "You sign finished exams with a sigil." 

Fareeha makes a face at Angela. "What? No. Try again."

"You do. It's to keep your students from feeling too embarrassed or big-headed about their marks. To encourage them to seek improvement." Satya gestures at the small stack of completed booklets. "Have a look."

Fareeha grabs one and, with the tip of her finger, traces the inked marking on the front cover. The apparent sigil warms to her touch and whispers to her its purpose. " _O-kay_ , I stand corrected."

Angela smirks. "Your turn, Amari."

Fareeha takes her time putting the booklet back, considering her options. "Angela's wings are just a courtesy. She doesn't need them to fly."

"You still think you chose magic along the way somehow." Angela counters immediately. "Even though your books say it's innate, born."

"You're still searching for a reason when there isn't one." Satya lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. "And as with everything even remotely related to us, you're still searching for how you fit."

 _Okay, what is_ that _supposed to mean?_

"Alright, who's psychoanalyzing who now?" Fareeha grumbles, hiding behind her glass of water. The clock in the kitchen ticks, filling the brief silence. _I was never going to win this._

"You didn't say we couldn't." Angela points out.

 _And_ that's _what I get for assuming boundaries._

"But we're not really. You've already done this to yourself." Satya leans forward. "We've just read the book you wrote in your mind."

"That's what we humans call a diary," Fareeha gripes, draining the last of her water. She sets the empty glass on the table, then watches them watch her for a moment, all curiosity and no malice. "Was this a game just to poke at all my open wounds?"

"No." Satya frowns. "I was expecting you to act similarly. Do you truly understand so little about us?"

_A quid pro quo, a game of information and open secrets._

"No, I…" Fareeha pauses. "It's not like you couldn't find out exactly what I know about you."

"Then why not say it?" Satya insists, narrowing her eyes.

"Because that sort of thing hurts? And you apparently think I just want to know all of the terrible things that have happened to you, which I _don't_." Fareeha shrugs. "Whether I figure it out or not, it's your business. I'm not trying to pry."

"So you're _still_ scared of us," Angela interjects, voice uncharacteristically flat.

She scoffs. "I haven't been scared of you since we made the Severance potion and you know it."

Satya strokes Angela's hand but keeps her eyes on Fareeha. If there was anything she planned to say, the dragoness doesn't, just waits.

"I know you won't hurt me," Fareeha says softly, then rolls her eyes to lighten the mood. "You just treat me like a squishy human you can do anything with..."

"Is that not the truth?" Satya's voice drops an octave into a sinuous purr that has Fareeha double-checking that Satya's legs aren't touching hers. "Do you want us to stop?" 

Fareeha's focus on keeping her thoughts from Satya doesn't stop her brain from shorting out at a parallel fantasy—

_"Do you want us to stop?"_

_"No! Please, keep going—"_

She shakes her head to clear _that_ thought.

"Oh, _Fareeha~!"_ Angela sings her name, teasing evident in every syllable. "You're _awfully_ quiet."

With her heart thumping uncontrollably, Fareeha pushes her chair back from the table and stands. Angela lifts the corner of her tie-blindfold; her eyes glitter with amusement, but Fareeha doesn't dare meet her gaze directly.

 _Why would I ever think they wouldn't know what I'm into? And how into them I am?_ _Of course, they'd use that against me._

Mortified, Fareeha scoops her laptop off the table and is halfway up the stairs before she really thinks about forfeiting the game and thus her pride. Raptora chatters, weaving around her legs. Even if he weren't her familiar, it'd be impossible to believe he's doing anything but laughing at her. 

Fareeha pauses at the top of the stairs, then shouts down toward the dining room: "I hope you know what type of coffee you want! I'm leaving in ten."

* * *

The walk across campus to college town takes only about thirty minutes, even with Fareeha pointing out campus landmarks and buildings along the way. Satya and Angela huddle together, dressed appropriately for the early winter weather. A light dusting of snow falls from the sky, but by the time they arrive at the eclectic entrance of Brewhaha, it's given way to weak winter sunshine.

"Line's long as always." Fareeha ushers the pair past a row of freshly baked pastries and bottled drinks to the back of the line. "All of their coffee drinks are amazing. If it sounds good, it is."

Satya scrutinizes the menu, written in colorful chalk and suspended above the cashier and drink making area.

"Why does every drink seem like it's designed to induce cavities?" Satya steps closer to the couple in front of them, peering at the laminated menu in their hands.

"I mean you _can_ get a regular coffee." Fareeha grabs a menu from a holder on the side of the desserts' display and hands it to her. They both consult it while the line moves.

After a few more people pass through the line, Angela grunts. "Regular coffee in a place like this seems like a waste." It's the first time that she's spoken in quite a while.

_She's really clinging to Satya, isn't she?_

To the casual passerby, Angela simply has her arm looped through her lover's. However, upon closer inspection, she's practically glued to Satya's shoulder, pressed close to her and avoiding any sort of interaction with other customers.

 _It's not just because she's younger…_ Fareeha muses, watching as Satya exchanges inane pleasantries with the couple ahead of them when they reach in front of the pair for a last-minute purchase. Angela, on the other hand, jerks back slightly and keeps her gaze on the snacks below the counter. 

_Satya's just… better at pretending?_

While she's wondering, the couple pays and steps away from the register. Before Fareeha can slip in front of them to chat with the cashier, Satya steps up and begins her order.

"Woah there, hon," they chuckle, still finishing up the last transaction. Angela's head snaps up at the affectionate pleasantry and Fareeha hurriedly slips between them and the cashier before someone gets disemboweled.

"Hey there, Alex," Fareeha smiles brightly at them. "Good to see you again. We'll be getting a table inside, just drinks today. I'll get a caramel oreo crunch. _Moyen_ , please."

Satya takes her cue when Fareeha glances over her shoulder. "An _énorme_ caramel salted sidewalk with extra whipped cream, _s'il vous plait._ "

Alex smiles at the French. "You got it. Anything else?"

There's a pregnant pause.

“Did you figure out what you want?” Fareeha turns to her other side, expecting to see the blonde still scrutinizing the menu. Instead, she’s glaring at the cashier who has the sense to lean back from such a venomous gaze. “ _Angela.”_

She seems to snap out of it. Still a little grumpy, she also orders an _énorme_ drink, but this one is a pepper-mint-chocolate mocha explosion. She steps aside, tugging out of Satya's arm for the first time.

Fareeha winces internally at the split, then shoos Satya aside as well. She leans over the counter and whispers, “Sorry about that. You look a lot like her ex. Bad breakup.”

Alex finally relaxes a little bit. “It's chill. I figured it was something like that. So that was a _moyen_ caramel oreo crunch, an _énorme_ pepper-mint-chocolate mocha explosion and an _énorme_ caramel salted sidewalk with the extra whip?”

“Actually, can I drop the caramel oreo crunch and get a _petit_ dark roast with a pump of caramel instead?”

Alex obliges and Fareeha breathes a sigh of relief as the total drops a few dollars. After she pays and provides names, she joins the other women at the pick-up counter. Satya’s keen eyes watch Fareeha slide her wallet back in her coat pocket.

“Game or no, we shouldn’t be a burden on you,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Fareeha snorts, pushing thoughts of budgeting out of her mind before Angela thinks to look up. “You’ve never had Brewhaha before. It’s worth it. Campus cafes are all school-approved chain satellites, so it's nice to have a local shop so close by.” When Angela doesn’t comment, she turns to the blonde. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Sorry.” Angela says it so quietly, Fareeha’s not even sure it was consciously uttered. In a little louder voice, she says, “Sym, we should find a table.”

Satya raises an eyebrow at Angela, then at the fairly crowded store and back at Fareeha. 

“Very well then.” She squeezes Fareeha’s arm briefly as they set off to find somewhere to sit.

 _Good move, bringing two demons to the most crowded place on campus._ She watches them find an empty tall table with just enough stools for the three of them. She drums her fingers on the counter, frustrated. _I shouldn’t expect them to know how to act just because they look human right now._

Eventually, the barista calls out their names, or rather an approximation.

“Fairy, satyr, and angel?” 

Fareeha chuckles as she takes the drink holder from the other barista, Haymitch, and thanks him. When she gets to the table, Satya looks irritated.

“ _What_ did he call me?”

“Satyr, I think.” She shrugs, passing out straws and a top for Angela's drink. "Brewhaha never gets names right; it’s part of their brand. If you don't hear it the first time, they'll call out correctly.”

Angela plays with the wrapping on her straw, staring at the whipped cream on her mocha. “Why do you think this will even work?”

“It’s worth a try, right?” Fareeha takes Angela's drink in her hands and closes her eyes, muttering under her breath. “I offer this pepper-mint-chocolate mocha explosion to Mercy, demon of medical malpractice.”

 _It’s about the intent,_ she thinks as Angela accepts the drink and lowers her head to lick the very tip of the whipped cream. Her contorted expression is all the confirmation she needs. It’s really a miracle that she doesn’t spit it on the floor.

Fareeha's heart sinks. “I'm so sorry.”

“There are some rules that can’t be avoided. There are reasons for this.” Satya sighs and reaches out to squeeze Fareeha’s hand. “It was kind of you to offer.”

“I mean I’m not giving up. There must be something.” Fareeha thinks back to how her books described rituals in which demons were offered corporeal substances. “Offerings are always in the inner circle, right?”

“Mostly, but if there’s something we’re meant to have after the ritual's completion, we’ll have to get it after it’s been broken. That’s usually when deals go wrong and people get killed.” Angela lifts a corner of her lip in an ugly snarl.

Fareeha is only half watching her frustrated antics. She digs in her messenger bag until she finds her pencil pouch. Then, she finds an old permanent marker and lifts Satya’s frappuccino off the table. 

“Can you dry the bottom?” 

Satya grabs one of the napkins and does so without question. Fareeha takes a deep breath and draws their sigil on the bottom of the plastic cup.

_Please work._

Satya hesitates to accept the drink, then puts the straw in it. However, her reaction could not be more different than Angela’s. She takes a sip, then sits back in shock, covering her mouth with one hand. As Satya holds back tears, Fareeha reaches over for Angela’s paper cup and gives it the same treatment.

Fareeha watches her drain nearly half the mocha in a single gulp. Angela cradles the cup to her chest, eyebrows raised in surprise, adoration, and wonder. 

“You absolutely _genius_ witch." Angela declares with hushed excitement. It's too loud in the café for it to really matter anyway. 

“I guess I have my moments." Fareeha laughs, watching them both try to simultaneously savor and drain their drinks. "Want to walk to the library now?”

Fareeha gathers her things and puts her hood on, pleased when they both follow suit, clinging to their drinks. 

_I can't really laugh at them. This is probably the first time in forever that they've had something they wanted and not just something they were offered._

_"_ Er, Fareeha?" She looks up, halfway to the door. Alex looks directly at her, gesturing a small frappuccino in her direction. She approaches the counter in confusion. 

"One of the newbies just made a mini caramel oreo frap on accident. Do you want it? It’s just gonna get tossed."

_Oh god, do I ever-_

_"Excuse me,"_ Angela sidesteps Fareeha's attempt to bar her from the counter. Satya aggressively slips her arm through her lover’s and tugs her toward the door, with little effect. "If she doesn't want it, _I'll_ take it."

_Thank god that was... mild..._

Fareeha laughs in relief and waves them both toward the exit. Satya steers Angela away. "I'd love it. Thanks a million."

"Yeah, no problem," they chirp with an awkward half-wave as Fareeha accepts the mini frappe with her free hand. "Have a good last week of classes!"

They're almost out the door, _almost,_ when Angela turns around and flashes a sharp-toothed grin at Alex. 

"Hey, _hon?_ By the way, she's _taken!"_ Angela flips the barista a ‘v’ and licks between her fingers. Sputtering, Fareeha herds Angela through the door, turning around to apologize profusely at a bemused Alex as they flee the café.

“Angela!” Fareeha struggles to balance both cups, eventually shoving the black coffee into Angela's free hand. "Stop terrorizing the public!"

“They had a thing for you. I was just saving them the trouble.” Angela sips at her own drink, leaving a lipstick stain on the lid. "Look me in the eye and tell me you're not taken."

Fareeha reaches over and pulls Angela's beanie over her eyes. "Fat chance! Stop being obnoxious."

Satya still has her arm hooked around Angela, which keeps her from falling on the sidewalk. While Angela squawks and hisses, Fareeha takes her other drink back.

"The combination of you two is… almost more amusing than myself and Angela…" Satya drains another quarter of her drink.

Fareeha scoffs. "Well, you two get along."

"We didn't always," Satya says and, as usual, refuses to elaborate as they walk back toward the center of campus. Once they enter the campus library, Fareeha sits them down on a foyer bench, ignoring Angela's messy hair and side-eye.

"Can you sit while I reserve a room?"

"Of course." Satya smiles and pushes Angela's cup toward its owner's mouth. She drinks from it, blushing furiously. "We'll be right here."

Fareeha checks out a graduate study room key from the circulation desk, along with her personal cart filled with her research books, and waves the pair over to her. Together they take the elevator to the fifth floor and Fareeha lets them into the small private study room overlooking the forest behind the library.

“These chairs don’t look comfortable,” Angela grumbles, using her foot to examine one of the wooden and metal chairs.

“Better for posture.” Fareeha parks the cart in the corner. “Plus, it’s research, not pleasure reading.”

“I fail to see why it shouldn’t be both.” Satya takes a seat at the head of the table and opens her frappuccino to collect the last of her whipped cream with her straw. She licks it off thoughtfully. Her gaze meets Fareeha’s for a moment and she smiles. Fareeha looks away, heart already fluttering.

_Has my life ever been more unfair?_

“Why don’t you two go find some books?” Fareeha clears her throat, reaching over to turn the blinds so the winter sun can filter into the room.

“But you already have books.” Angela points out.

“Yeah, but those are mine. You said there’s a lot of stuff you missed, right? Why don’t you have a look for some history books? Find out what's been going on?” Fareeha raises an eyebrow at Angela as she runs her hands through her hair, pulling her beanie off. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, the only sound is Satya replacing the lid on her cup with a _pop._

"I'm never going to get this right," Angela snarls, expression tortured as she curls her fingers around her coffee cup, staring at it as if she might incinerate it with her gaze alone. “I should've stayed at the apartment.”

Fareeha blinks, paused with the blinds' strings wrapped around her fingers. “Okay. I’m not forcing you to stay here. You can go back to the apartment.”

Blue eyes flickering violet, Angela stares at her; this time Fareeha lets her, knowing she won’t believe her unless-

“Don’t use that against me, damn it! Hell, you’re so _earnest._ ” Angela shrugs out of her coat and vest in a huffy fit and throws them over the chair. “Come on, Sym. Let’s find _books._ ”

“Never assume I share the same ire that you do toward reading…” Leaving her cup behind, Satya moves to follow Angela out the room. She lingers in the doorway but leaves, letting the door shut quietly behind her.

After enjoying a few sips of her frappuccino, Fareeha busies herself with setting up her laptop and finding an outlet. 

_Just like any other friends or roommates, this will take a while… probably more than any normal people… maybe years?_

Behind her, the door opens.

The hairs on the Fareeha’s neck stand up immediately. By the time she straightens up and steels herself to turn around, she is more than certain that the entity in the room is neither Angela nor Satya.

Aware that her pocket knife is deep in her discarded jacket's pocket, far out of casual reach, she turns slowly, keeping her chair between her and the door.

The woman that stands just inside the room is… ageless. She’s neither old nor young. Her hair might be platinum gray or blonde; the sunlight hits her hair bun in a way that makes it impossible to tell. Her brown skin bears no wrinkles except for laugh lines around her eyes. Her suit is crisp and silver, with black lapels and a white dress shirt underneath. Were it not for the two gray eyes, she could almost be her mother.

The door swings shut.

“Hello, Fareeha Amari.” Her voice sounds like sulphur-tainted honey. Her eyes glitter as she sits on the table, pushing aside Angela’s coffee cup. “You seem well.”

“What did you do to them?” Fareeha lifts her chin, trying to push down the fear about the fact that not a single bit of her military training could help her against an otherworldly being who truly meant to harm her. 

The woman laughs and the sound echoes like windchimes left in a thunderstorm. Fareeha clenches her jaw at the sound, trying to keep from flinching. She laughs for a long time, far longer than necessary.

It’s uncanny.

“I have done nothing to them.” The woman’s eyes flash gold for a moment, then back to gray. “Hadeans are nothing but dolls. Vessels of intent. _Your_ intent. Neither of them matter as much as you do.”

Fareeha turns this over in her mind, thinking quickly. There’s nothing she can say that won’t either reveal ignorance or show her hand further. However, the woman seems to be waiting for her to say _something._

“Yes,” Fareeha says slowly. “And?”

The intruder narrows her eyes and leans across the table, closing Fareeha’s laptop to get as close to her face as possible. “How long do you intend to deliberate on your incantation?”

 _Oh. Does she want an argument? With_ me _?_

“I don’t see how that’s any of _your_ concern.” Fareeha swallows, glaring at her. “I’m more than within my right to deliberate for as long as I please.”

“And if anyone else had the need to summon Symmetra and Mercy?” She picks up one of Fareeha’s pens and balances it on her fingertip. Fareeha frowns, watching it teeter from side to side. “Surely you must understand expedience is a matter of concern.”

“Why would that be _my_ concern?” Fareeha raises an eyebrow.

For a split second, rage flickers across the other woman’s face; despite how terrified this makes Fareeha feel, it does let her know that she’s said the correct thing- for her own purposes, at least.

_There are rules, right? She can't just disembowel me for speaking, can she?_

"You humans have no sense of balance." She hisses, dropping the pen to the table with a startling clatter. Still, Fareeha doesn't flinch. Digging her nails into her palms to keep her composure, she breathes slowly through her nose.

"Well, we humans are known for being _preeeetty_ selfish,” She grins in a way that would give Angela a run for her money. The other woman recoils, eyebrows furrowed in anger or perhaps confusion. “So do you have a point here? Or are you just going to wait for my demons to come back?”

“ _Your_ demons? _Your_ _demons_? Those walking impurities will taint your soul.” The woman stands, circling the table and chair until there's nothing left between them. “You should not play with infernal powers, human. There are consequences.”

"So is it my soul or the balance you're worried about? I can't tell." It’s Fareeha’s turn to laugh, but she can only manage a dry chuckle.

"You should be worried about both."

“Why? I’m only curious.”

“About what? Their wickedness? Their damned destiny? What could you possibly hope to learn from a cursed pair like them?” The woman’s sclera flicker black for a second, but her irises turn crimson this time and stay. “What are your intentions? _What have they told you?”_

 _That_ gets her attention. 

_Oh, this could be dangerous._

Fareeha studies the other woman, gaze roaming as she recognizes little pieces of disorganization and decay in her form: stray pieces of hair alive with static, nails that are more like claws, glitching sections of her suit, an increasingly persistent odor of ozone.

As with the rest of the conversation, she waits, eyes boring into Fareeha’s as she considers her response. Some rules of magic are simple. 

_What can’t be stolen must be freely given._

“What I want from this arrangement isn’t any of your business." Fareeha murmurs with a smile. “Otherwise you’d know already, wouldn’t you?”

She moves so quickly that Fareeha doesn’t have time to process the blur until a hand is already at her throat and slamming her against the window. The blinds clatter and crumple behind her as she struggles. The woman's hand chills the blood thumping through Fareeha's pulse points with the precision of a needle. She gasps, trying to keep her toes on the floor as she scratches helplessly at the woman's arm.

“You would be wise," she hisses, a rattle coming from deep in her lungs, "-to stop playing _games_ with me, Amari _.”_

The door opens.

“Sybil!” Satya gasps as Fareeha is dropped to the floor. Fareeha manages to stay standing, eyes on Satya and Angela as they rush into the room. 

_Do they know her?_

Sybil flings out a hand and slams the door closed behind them. Eyes wide, both of the demonesses stop short, dropping their gathered books.

_No, they're scared of her._

“Don’t worry about them.” Fareeha dusts off her sleeves and fixes Sybil with a calm look. Her heart thumps in her chest, unable to slow its rhythm after seeing such fear on their faces. "They're just dolls, right?"

"And you are nothing more than a _meddling_ _human—!_ " Sybil's voice distorts with static, along with her form. Her back is to both demonesses now and Fareeha tries not to cower as she assumes her full form. " _Toying with forces that you do not understand!"_

Sybil hovers in the room, an eldritch maelstrom of mismatched wings and hypnotic eyes and sharp teeth. Her dozens of pupils swivel to focus on her. Fareeha flinches; she can't help it this time.

"I'm _not_ done with them."

" _You are upsetting the balance—"_ Sybil shrieks at a shrill, supersonic pitch and drums her multitude of wings. Fareeha holds steady, bracing herself against the wall.

"And I don't care!" Fareeha shouts into the wind. "They're mine until I'm finished and you can't force me to be done!"

Sybil roars like a freight train, her glitching form showing images of death and decay, blood and bile. Fareeha's eyes begin to water with tears of both pain and fear as Sybil wails, moving closer and closer to her.

As suddenly as it began, it stops. Sybil resumes her human form with a small _pop._ She dusts off the lapels of her suit jacket and steps closer to Fareeha. She looms over her, sneering.

"Then on your own head, so be it." Sybil hisses. "You've had your warning."

"So I take it that means you'll leave me alone?" Fareeha raises an eyebrow. "Like forever?"

Sybil disappears with a puff of silver smoke smelling faintly of ozone. 

"Ugh, I hope that's a yes," Fareeha mutters. The lump of ice in her stomach begins to thaw. Her hands shake as she slowly relaxes her fists, feeling the impressions that her nails left behind.

"Fucking hell. _Fareeha!_ " Angela rushes over to her as she slumps against the wall, finally letting her legs collapse underneath her. Satya drags a chair over and they help her into it. "You could have been _killed._ "

Fareeha tilts her head back and closes her eyes. She shakes her head. "No. That's not how it works. _You_ aren't allowed to kill anyone who hasn't performed an incantation. Why would she?"

"Fareeha, that was a risky assumption to make, considering it was _wrong._ " Satya sighs. "Surely you could tell she is superior to us. She's beholden to fewer rules."

"She could have killed me the moment she walked into the room." Fareeha looks down at the two demons kneeling her by her side. "But she didn't. If I was really a problem, she wouldn't have batted an eyelash, but all she did was try to scare me."

"But you _were_ scared," Satya protests, gripping her hand tightly. "Fareeha, you should have called us."

 _Uh, how?_ Taking a shuddering breath, Fareeha tries for a smile. "Why? You were getting books."

"Fareeha!" Satya snaps, crushing her hand so hard that Fareeha whimpers until she releases it. "You should not be so keen to put yourself in harm's way for us. We are not worth—"

"Yeah, you are," Fareeha mumbles, cradling her hand to her chest and already knowing what they'll say.

"Fareeha, your life is worth dozens of ours..." Angela avoids her gaze. "You don't know what we've done. We're demons, remember?"

_How could I ever forget?_

"Well, apparently you're _Hadeans_ , but semantics, right?" When they both level unimpressed glares at her, she swallows and continues. "Besides, it's more about the things you can do now if you want. You don't _have_ to do anything. I'm just giving you a chance."

"At your own moral expense." Satya still seems frustrated.

"I mean, I'm already a witch, aren't I? In for a penny—"

"You don't even know what that pound is!" Angela hisses. "You're a walking, talking contradiction of high intelligence and low common sense. You defy logic."

"I mean, you're the emotionally stunted demons."

"But _that_ makes sense." Satya falls silent with a heavy sigh, contemplating. She gently takes Fareeha's hand again, but this time, she presents it to Angela. "I am sorry to have injured you. Mercy, would you please?"

Fareeha watches, utterly baffled as Angela brings her hand to her mouth and kisses it softly, never breaking eye contact. For a moment, her eyes flash violet; then the pain ebbs and fades.

Fareeha stares in amazement, flexing her fingers. For a moment, the study room is silent.

"What? Can't have your pretty fingers broken up…" Angela grins and wraps her tongue around the tips of her fingers until Fareeha yanks her hand back.

"You _had_ to ruin it." Fareeha wipes her hand on her jeans, ignoring the furious blush rising to her cheeks.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Flirting enhances any conversation."

"At least buy me dinner first." Fareeha quips, almost immediately regretting reciprocating because of the way their eyes light up.

_Ethically…_

"Unfortunately, Fareeha, we have yet to acquire any money." Satya hums thoughtfully, getting to her feet and helping Angela up as well. "Though I'm sure we could probably manage-"

_Realistically..._

"No, no, Satya, it's okay. I'll _always_ have something she can eat." Angela smiles a truly devilish smile and for two seconds, Fareeha lets herself imagine that they're regular women and that this conversation could go anywhere but nowhere.

_At least for now?_

Fareeha ducks around them, avoiding Angela's eyes and Satya's touch. "Yeah, not hungry right now. I've got research to do." She thinks she hears Angela mutter _'fucking saint'_ behind her back, but she can't be sure.

When she opens her laptop, it wakes up almost immediately. Fareeha presents her fingerprints to the trackpad and unlocks the computer. Her thesis is just where she left it, backlit by dozens of online papers, resources, and oral exam files.

"The Sociopolitical Effect of Increased Demonic Summons in the Late 21st Century?" Satya reads out as she brings the chair back over so Fareeha can sit. She sighs heavily. "Sweet sulphur, Fareeha… what are you thinking?"

"Aren't you glad I didn't tell you?" Angela laughs and the sound of her laughter soothes Fareeha as easily as a cat's purr. "I told you it was a title worth waiting for!"

"What?" Fareeha squirms, unhappily scrolling down to the point in her outline where she left off. "You can't blame me for being curious. If a bunch of frat boys got into it, I'm sure it's more widespread than occultists."

"Fareeha, this is hardly a thesis. This is a scandal." Satya drags the nearest chair over and begins scrolling up through the first few pages. "This sort of digging could get you killed by humans and demons alike."

"We'd never let that happen." Angela drapes herself over Fareeha's shoulder, placing a hand on Satya's so she slows her pace. Fareeha's heart finally resumes a normal rhythm as Angela adds, "Isn't that right, Sym?"

Fareeha is not surprised to feel incredibly safe with Angela at her back and Satya at her side.

"Of course not." Satya steps back, walking toward the door, gathering their books, and depositing them on the table. "I think we owe her that much."

"You don't _owe_ me anyth-"

"Yes, yes," Angela kisses her temple and the beginnings of her post-adrenaline headache disappears, along with the ringing in her ears from Sybil's screeching. "We know. Our ever noble witch summoned us only so we could experience the curiosities of modern human life."

"And keep her company, don't forget." Satya takes her seat once more. "It would be foolish of us to disrespect the nicest deal we've had in decades."

"It's not technically a deal-"

"Semantics," Satya echoes airily with a sharp grin.

"Whatever." Rolling her eyes, Fareeha drags the document back to the end of the outline and reaches for a heavily sticky-noted book. "And you're not here as sources either, to be clear."

" _What?"_ Angela brings her hands up and pinches Fareeha's cheeks. It takes a moment to wriggle out of her grip. "You don't want a primary source? Wouldn't that be hilarious?"

"Yes, but how exactly would she cite us?" Satya snickers and lapses into an uncanny imitation of Fareeha."'I performed a summoning myself to interview some demons-"

"That's exactly what we need if we _want_ to start a scandal." Angela hums. "You know, she _did_ bring a baseball bat downstairs to greet us the first time. Figures she'd swing it at a hornets' nest too."

"Don't you have books to read?" Fareeha whines. "The title's a work-in-progress. It's not as dire as it seems."

Satya scoots her chair next to hers and selects a book from their stack. "We'll be the judges of that."

On the other hand, Angela just folds her arms, keeping Fareeha's neck in a loose embrace. A glance at the window's reflection reveals that she is indeed floating, sitting cross-legged with her tail tip brushing the floor.

_Good thing there's no eye-level windows between us and the rest of the library._

It's not long before Satya tucks her legs underneath her and leans on Fareeha's left shoulder. Shortly after, Angela tucks her chin over her right shoulder and sighs softly.

"Are you going to do that often?"

Fareeha looks up from her book and turns her head so she can just barely see Angela's pensive expression. "Do what?"

"Almost get yourself killed."

Fareeha winces. "No, I'm not trying to, I swear."

Angela seems to consider and accept this, snuggling closer. Nearly five minutes later, she murmurs: "We can't protect you if you're dead."

_Oh._

"I'll avoid dying as long as I can."

"Good. It's overrated." Angela kisses her cheek. After a moment, she breathes in like there's something else she wants to say, but the room remains silent.

Time passes and often the only sounds are breathing, typing, and the turning of pages.

A half-hour before her three-hour room reservation is up, Fareeha hears the first snore.

"Don't move. You'll wake her," Satya murmurs, turning a page of her second encyclopedia volume of the evening. She remains tucked into the space between Fareeha's shoulder and cheek.

"You're confused," Satya states, calling attention to the fact that she's probably been tracking her emotions for over two hours. "That's fair."

Fareeha huffs.

"There's no need to feel betrayed. I did this because I wanted to be physically close to you, not to monitor you." Satya cranes her neck to meet Fareeha's side-eye with minimal movement. "Is that so hard to believe?"

 _It's actually not._ Fareeha shakes her head.

"We spent a lot of time thinking about you while we were gone." Satya lifts her head and looks out the window. "It's not easy to think we almost lost you so soon after returning."

Fareeha carefully turns to look at her, but Satya doesn't look back.

"Time passes differently for us… there." Satya pauses and it's not hard to realize that she's considering if she should have revealed that. "Imagine waiting half a year for someone, only to nearly lose them after a comparative hour because they insisted on playing chicken with a freight train."

_For them to watch me yell at another demon…_

Fareeha wrestles internally with the fact that she didn't _invite_ Sybil to threaten her but also the fact that she didn't exactly back down. If anything, she went out of her way to antagonize the higher demon.

_Okay, that was a little stupid._

"I'm sorry," Fareeha whispers, voice cracking with disuse.

The snoring stops.

"I will shove machine oil down your gullet if you don't clear your throat right now, Amari." Angela unfolds herself, joints popping as she stretches. 

Fareeha obliges, then teases, "I don't know, Tin Man. You sound like you might need to keep that for yourself."

With all the indignant squawking that ensues, it's almost easy to forget the serious nature of the preceding conversations she had with each of them. With the sun low in the sky, Angela and Satya help her clean up the room, put the history tomes on the circulation cart, and wheel Fareeha's books back down to the front desk.

Fareeha exits the library first, immediately hit in the face with a blast of bitter December winds. She pulls her coat tighter and grimaces, lamenting the lack of a face scarf.

"It wasn't supposed to get this cold this early," she says, turning to the pair as they inch out of the library doors.

Angela hisses as she gets a full hit of the frigid wind. "No way in hell am I walking back to the apartment."

"Well, I forgot my broomstick, so..." Fareeha jokes, honestly wishing the grad housing wasn't so far away. She watches her breath condense in the chilly air. Satya covertly puffs out a cloud of smoke, chuckling in amusement- either at Fareeha's joke or Angela's whining- or perhaps both.

"I'll _always_ keep you warm, darling," promises Satya. She offers her arm but Angela is already distracted.

" _Or_ we can _shadow walk."_ Angela lights up at her own suggestion, looks around wildly, and then takes off in the direction of the back of the library.

Fareeha follows with barely a second of hesitation, though she's still a step behind Satya. They run through the dead flower beds, around the brick building and the closed library café patio. They don't stop until Angela disappears behind a huge tree at the edge of the forest behind the building.

"Angela?"

"Isn't this the same type of tree that you have outside your apartment?" The demoness peeks around the huge trunk, grinning wide. Her eyes glitter, reflecting what little light is left of dusk.

Fareeha looks up at the tree's scaly, patchy trunk, mottled with brown bark and pale white wood revealed underneath it. Its towering frame dangles spiky seed pods from every branch like ornaments. A few dead saw-toothed leaves cling to an autumn long passed.

_Shadow… walk… can I really travel between the shadows of this tree and my own?_

"They're both sycamores, yeah." Fareeha is already pulling her travel wand- a smooth, lake-scoured, white stick that fits in her grip perfectly- from her satchel. "What about it?"

"Ask if this tree is willing to take us home." 

Fareeha steps forward and places a hand on the tree's trunk. She spreads her fingers apart on a patch of smooth white wood, closes her eyes, and imagines her thoughts traveling from her brain down to her fingertips.

_"Yes, but not for much longer."_

"We have to go before the sun sets." Fareeha pulls her hand back and looks through the forest at the rapidly disappearing sun. "She can't guarantee we'll get to the right tree if it's completely dark."

"Can she show you which shadow is hers?" Satya asks, joining Fareeha at the tree. She's careful not to step on the roots.

The answer is even quicker this time: _"It sleeps at my biggest root."_

Fareeha keeps her hand on the tree and thinks, _Is there anything I can do for you?_

For a moment, she thinks the tree has ignored her third question. She can feel her companions nearby, awaiting the answer to Satya's question.

_"There is a leaf at my crown that cannot let go."_

When Fareeha opens her eyes again, her vision sparks at the edges, glimmers of dark blue and gold that disappear with a couple of blinks.

"Angela, there's a leaf at her very top that won't fall. Can you go break it off at the stem and bring it to me?" Fareeha glances over her shoulder at the dwindling, but still present, student foot traffic in the distance. " _Discreetly?"_

Angela takes a few steps into the forest, then soars up to the canopy. Satya tilts her head in confusion.

"Her shadow's here." Fareeha points with her free hand. "What exactly do I need to do?"

"Draw a sigil to take us home." Angela lands as if on cue, cradling the leaf in her hands. "I didn't think you needed this?"

_Cute. Her accent always comes out more when she's confused._

"She needed it gone; just hold onto it." Crouching in the dirt, Fareeha uses her wand to draw the sigil that comes to mind within the tree's dwindling shadow. "Did I imbue that right?"

"Well… yes." Satya murmurs. "That's correct."

_Is this always going to be so natural?_

Ignoring the hesitation and accepting the approval in favor of their closing time window, Fareeha slips her wand back into her satchel and takes each of their hands. "Okay, two full revolutions counterclockwise and on the third, I step on the sigil. Don't step on her roots. Don't let go of me."

On the first pass, Fareeha steps over the sigil, not registering the shape, but only its meaning: home.

On the second pass, Fareeha steps over the sigil, confused by the flicker of recognition at its shape; her sigils don't typically have recognizable precursors.

On the third pass, Fareeha steps onto the sigil, eyes wide with understanding as it disappears under her boot. Her sigil for home is her sigil for self, rotated and intertwined through the sigil of her demons.

There's a moment of darkness and silence where the only things that she's sure of are the hands in hers.

Then, they step onto the snow outside her apartment, under the naked branches of the young sycamore. 

"Wonderful! Chaos witches are the best." Angela swings her arm, nearly yanking Fareeha off her feet. "You can do _anything_."

Fareeha tugs her hands free and presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. A jolt of pain passes through her temples, striking her fiercely. She tries to step forward and almost falls.

Satya rumbles with concern. "Fareeha, open your eyes. We're back now." 

She tries to follow directions but her vision swims with sparkles. Satya nudges her toward her door, but putting one foot in front of the other feels impossible.

"Wait, wait, stop. Give me a moment..." The blue and gold glimmers in her vision stay longer this time, even when she closes her eyes to stop the dizzy swaying. The world disappears from under her feet and when she opens her eyes again, Satya's carrying her to the front door.

Satya glares at Angela. "Yes, anything, including overdoing it. 

"What? She should know better than to put all her energy into one spell by now!" Angela deflects, rummaging in her satchel until she locates Fareeha's jingling key ring.

"Should I?" Fareeha mutters, too cold, exhausted, and sleepy to really snipe back. Yowling at the top of his little lungs, Raptora thunders down the stairs before Angela even closes the door behind them. 

"Hey! How were we supposed to know she doesn't have a Flow yet?" Angela hisses at the familiar. "You didn't think to mention it to her?"

"Angela, we need to get her into bed. Can this wait?"

"He started arguing with _me_!"

 _Home._ Fareeha burrows her face into Satya's scarf and begins to drift off, in spite of the caterwauling between demon and cat. _Yes, that sounds right._

* * *

When she wakes up to a heavy, purring weight on her chest, it feels late. Raptora places a grey paw on her cheek and she turns her face to avoid it-

And comes face to face with a sleeping Symmetra.

Her bed accommodates them both easily, even with the dragoness in her true form. While Fareeha's tucked in, Satya's stretched out on top of the covers alongside her and glowing brightly. Every inch of her form radiates heat, but the distance between them makes it so that, between the blankets and the dragoness, Fareeha feels perfectly warm.

Fareeha sighs with contentment.

"She makes a nice space heater, doesn't she?"

Fareeha turns her head to face the center of the room. Angela sits at her desk, knees pulled up to her chest. Her wings hug her hunched form and her tail curls around her sock-cozy feet.

"Did I pass out?" Fareeha tries to sit up, only to get smacked by her familiar once more. When she grumbles at him, he only repositions himself firmly on her sternum and mews.

"Yes, I..." Angela kneads the stress ball with both hands. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"I know you weren't. It would have happened sooner or later." Fareeha clucks her tongue at Raptora, who reluctantly retreats to her waist so she can prop herself up on her elbows and look at Angela properly. "It was fun. Talking to the tree, making a new sigil, shadow walking, all of it."

"I thought I ruined it for you." Angela's wings and tail curl tighter around her. "You're always using your magic for others and I guess… I wanted you to use it for yourself, for once. Leave it to a demon to be selfish."

Fareeha snorts, slapping a hand over her mouth to stop laughing. Angela looks up with such vitriol that Fareeha can't help but burst into side-splitting guffaws. 

Raptora stands and meows plaintively, sauntering over to curl up with Satya.

"You wanted _me_ to enjoy my own powers and that makes _you_ selfish?"

Angela's wide-eyed expression of confusion just makes Fareeha laugh harder, so much that she flops back onto the bed.

"Explain yourself, Amari," Angela demands. In the lamplight, her cheeks are a bright lavender and with her wings flared wide, her embarrassment is clear.

"Do you ever think you maybe buy into the demon thing a bit too much?" Fareeha whispers with a smile, even as Angela looks away, eyes on her altar and the newest leaf upon it.

"Like I had a choice."

With a rumble, Satya stirs and murmurs, "You do now."

Angela bites her lip and says nothing, flicking her tail rapidly. Fareeha raises her eyebrows, finally able to turn onto her side so she can regard her properly. 

_It's remarkable really, how much she shifts._

In the low light, Fareeha watches transfixed as Angela's appearance fluxes semi-rapidly— hair between blonde and ebony, skin between pale ivory and marble, teeth from canines to fangs, eyes from sky blue to lavender, ears from round to pointed.

_Does she notice it?_

Eventually, Angela settles at a halfway point, a form that Fareeha would be inclined to call pajamas: slightly sharper ears, wings, tail, and violet eyes, but otherwise human. If she realizes Fareeha has been watching her shift, she doesn't show it. 

Angela reaches over and slides the stack of exam booklets across the desk toward Fareeha.

"Here."

Fareeha sighs. "I guess I do need to finish those."

"No, idiot." Angela leans across the space between them and hands her one. Inside the booklet is a printed paper rubric, neatly filled out for both the oral and written exam portions. Fareeha skims the comments, then flips through the booklet at the neatly-written margin notes as well. When she looks up again, Angela still can't meet her gaze. 

"You graded all of these?"

"Look, I used your rubric." Angela huffs. "Just needs your dumb sigil."

Grinning, Fareeha closes the booklet and hands it back to her. "How very... demony of you."

"It's _demon-ic_ ," Angela hisses, snatching the exam back and slapping it back on the pile.

The bed begins trembling slightly and it's a moment before Fareeha realizes that it's Satya, trying to hold her own laughter back, who's causing it.

" _Sym."_

"Darling…" Satya snickers. Raptora protests noisily and leaps over Fareeha and off the bed. Judging by his upright tail, he's off to find better sleeping places downstairs. "Turn the light off and let Fareeha get back to sleep."

" _Someone_ stole my space heater!" Angela gripes, but reaches over to turn the lamp off anyway. Her narrowed eyes glow in the darkness.

"You know..." Fareeha adjusts the blankets around herself until she's comfortable enough to fall back asleep, then continues. "There's enough space to share."

The floating eyes blink rapidly and Fareeha wonders if Angela can still read her thoughts in the dark. After a moment of hesitation, there's a _poof_ , then another as Angela reappears between the two of them and snuggles in close.

"Hmph. _Our_ bed is bigger."

"Mhm." Fareeha yawns and rolls over toward them. Whatever they've done to the other bedroom is not worth worrying about at the moment. "Next time."

 _Next time…_ Fareeha thinks to herself with a smile as she drifts off. _And hopefully many more after that..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art is by the lovely [hanghr](https://twitter.com/_hanghr_) who has always done a FANTASTIC job at bringing my scenes to life! Go give her some love!
> 
> And additionally, blooming did [some incredible art](https://twitter.com/bloomingjellies/status/1174444320079745024) inspired by this fic and that piece simply has not gotten enough love so please go give her some love too!
> 
> And one last thing, if you're interested in a [Sapphic!Symmetra server](https://discord.gg/R86QC5T) that I run, we're always looking for more friendly faces! The fandom is getting kinda tiny. ;u;

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats*  
> if you'd like to roast me for this, i'm on twitter [@kinaesthetique](https://twitter.com/kinaesthetique)
> 
> As for other fics, yes, I'm still writing them! This one just needed an outlet.


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